


Broken Feathers

by naarna



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Assault, Auror Ron Weasley, Auror Theodor Nott, Break Up, Burns, Businessman Draco, Creature Fic, Creature Fights, Creature Hermione, Disappearance, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Roller Coaster, Empusa, F/M, Fights, Flashbacks, Head Auror Harry Potter, Mildly Dubious Consent, Minor Character Death, PTSD, Panic Attacks, Past Relationship(s), Pining, Rescue, Seduction, Sexual Content, Smut, Succubus, Tags May Change, Triggers, Vicious Harpy, Wandless Hermione, Werewolf
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-14
Updated: 2018-06-30
Packaged: 2018-09-17 12:23:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 33
Words: 127,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9323390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/naarna/pseuds/naarna
Summary: It's been eight years since Draco last spoke with Hermione, and now she has disappeared. Will he put everything into finding her?





	1. Another Note

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [In the Beginning a Flame](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8268566) by [reeby10](https://archiveofourown.org/users/reeby10/pseuds/reeby10). 



> This work is the result of a huge plot bunny that wouldn't leave me alone... I hope you like it! :) I plan to update more or less regularly, about twice a month—this depends, however, on my other projects, my speed as a writer, and the speed of my beta reader... :-)
> 
> Many thanks to Laura for proof-reading my story, and keeping it focused.

It was a normal Tuesday morning, and Draco was sitting in his minimalistically furnished office on the top floor of his company. He had taken it over when his father had been sentenced to life in Azkaban, and had proven to be rather talented in business matters, divesting all questionable connections and investments, as well as concentrating on research and development of new technology for the wizarding world. Besides that, he had made a point of studying the structures of successful Muggle companies, and implemented similar structures; nowadays, his company was an established household name, not just in Great Britain, but throughout Europe with plans to expand further.

So, that morning he was going through the daily reports from the Research and Development Departments with Astoria, his personal assistant. It was their daily ritual—and as usual, she was sitting next to him for easier note taking.

“There isn’t much to report today, it seems. The Research Department still say they are stuck on figuring out the newest technologies. And they claim that they are severely understaffed to achieve anything.”

“They always claim this,” Draco replied without looking up from his notes; however he pulled up his agenda to check his schedule, and then sighed. “Tell the Head of Department I might have a couple of minutes left tomorrow to discuss his claim. But he hasn't really any reason to complain, his Department already has the most employees...”

“Yes, I told him the same, but he still wants to discuss it. Says he has a few ideas.”

“ _Ideas_. I hate that word when it comes from him.” Draco groaned, and pinched his nose in an attempt to avoid a facepalm in response to the insistence of his Head of Research Department; he then checked his agenda once more, sighing wearily. “Let's see. Okay, tell him I have some time for him on Thursday after _four_. Wonder what kind of _ideas_ he has this time...”

“Noted.” She checked her Quick-Note Quill to make sure it had penned down the correct information, and then eyed Draco with a worried look. “You okay? You look tired...”

Draco nodded, his gaze still fixed on his agenda, which was always filled with meetings, appointments and other important dates he shouldn't miss. It had kept him busy for the last ten years or so, and he was glad about it—he wouldn't know where he'd be now if he hadn't had the little agenda and the company to distract him from other things he wanted to forget, but still couldn't. “I'm fine, Astoria,” he replied, though it wasn't quite true, as he was starting to feel tired—not physically tired, but emotionally. “You don't have to ask me every morning,” he added, finally looking up.

“And you know I will keep asking you every morning. Why don't you take a break? Go on a holiday and relax, enjoy the sun a bit in the Caribbean.”

“And leave the company alone?” he asked sceptically, and leaned back in his director's chair.

She nodded. “Blaise and I can keep the company running for you. And I'm sure Pansy will help as well. Take a break, it will do you good,” she continued with a concerned voice. “Please. You need it. We all think that you buried yourself in work long enough–”

“Is there anything else concerning the Departments I need to know?” he interrupted her, clenching his jaw. Burying himself in work was what had kept him alive all that time. He couldn't allow himself a break because that would mean he had time to think about things he had gone through enough times on sleepless nights.

“Draco, please at least consider it, ma–”

“I think we're finished for today, right?” Draco said, a low growl in his voice as a sign that he wasn't going to accept any further discussion on the matter.

“I get it,” she shot back, not in the least intimidated by his growl. “No need to talk to me like that, Draco, okay? I'm your friend, and as such I'm worried about you.”

“You always are.”

She smiled softly. “Yes. That's what friends are for. To worry about each other, make sure you're okay.” With that, she started collecting her Quick-Note Quill and her penned down notes in order to go back to her desk just outside his office. “Don't forget that the Irish Ministry is waiting for your call.”

“Thanks.” With a faint smile, he watched her get up and leave him to the preparation for the appointment that was scheduled two hours later. He might place the call to the Irish Ministry just before that, it was only to confirm their latest transaction anyway.

 

About an hour after Astoria had left his office, Draco was pulled from his thoughts by the sound of a small owl pecking at the only window that could be opened. He immediately recognised the small owl—it was Maude, Theo's favourite owl for when he wanted to send him a message. Draco got up, smiling shortly at the fact that Theo still refused to use one of the devices his Development Department had struggled to figure out the details for to keep him informed about certain things, stating that the owl was more inconspicuous because he was sending owls all the time, anyway. “Come on in, Maude. Let's see what Theo has this time.”

The bird hopped inside, straight towards the desk, where she knew he had a few owl treats in store for her. She hooted quietly when he joined her at the desk, offering her the owl treats in exchange for the note on her leg.

Draco put the note on the side when he managed to get it off her leg. “One last treat for you, and then you go back to Theo, okay? Bite him in the finger for me...” He offered the owl another treat and then let her out of the window again, watching her fly back towards the Ministry until he couldn't make her out any longer in the grey sky. He liked the bird, she was the closest thing to a pet he had and treated her accordingly—at least one creature he could treat with a bit of love. He used to treat another person the same way, treating her with all the love he had; those happier days were long gone, but he still yearned for them to come back. With a sigh, he finally unfolded the note to read it.

 _Have you read today's Prophet yet?_  
_I think you should be informed about that._  
_Theo_

“The Prophet?” he let out in confusion, and then realised that he indeed hadn't read through it yet. He hadn't even seen today's edition anywhere, not on his desk, not on Astoria's, and he guessed it was even hidden away downstairs in the entrance hall. Irritated that his friends thought it once more necessary to hide the newspaper from him, he stormed out of the office. “Astoria!”

“No need to shout my name like that,” she retorted, looking up from the report she was checking.

“Where's your husband?” Draco asked, a low growl in his voice.

“In his office, as he always is at this time when you both aren't in a meeting or anything similar. What's the matter?”

Draco dismissed her question with a wave of his hand and left to walk towards the stairs that would lead him down one floor to Blaise's office. “Nothing.”

“Gods, Theo has sent you another note, hasn't he?” Astoria followed him, struggling to keep up with his fast, angry stride. “I told him to stop that, because it's doing you no good–”

That made Draco stop and turn around. “I know you do everything to keep anything about _her_ out of my sight. I know you filter out my messages, so I need someone else to keep me updated, okay?”

“That's what I mean. How are you supposed to let go if he keeps reminding you all the time?”

“No.” He turned back around to continue storming down to Blaise's office, with Astoria following as fast as she could.

Moments later, Draco burst into Blaise's office, letting the door slam into the wall behind it. “Why do you keep hiding the Prophet?”

“Theo has sent him a message, Blaise!” Astoria shouted from the hallway to warn her husband about the reason for this interruption.

With an exasperated sigh, Blaise got up to meet Draco on eye level, his arms crossed on his chest. “Because I need you to be in a good enough mood for the appointment later. You do remember that we're meeting the representatives from Hungary in an hour, right?”

Draco shook his head, ignoring Blaise's remark, and banged the note he received from Theo on the desk instead. “What am I not supposed to know this time?”

“Theo is an arsehole for doing this. We told him both to stop it. And I'm not going to tell you, nor am I going to give you the paper right now,” Blaise replied, a warning swinging in his voice. “Let go. It's time.”

“No.” Again, Draco shook his head, and then pulled out his wand.

“Draco, no!” Astoria tried to intervene, pulling at her friend's right arm. “Please. Listen to Blaise for once.”

“ _Accio_ Prophet!”

Blaise was fast enough to catch the newest edition of the Prophet when it slipped out of the bottom of his drawer. “I told you, I won't give you the paper right now.”

“Blaise, hand it over.” Draco stretched out his left hand, pointing his wand at his friend.

“Make me,” Blaise retorted, staring straight at Draco.

“I know it's about _her_. Nothing you're going to say now will make me stop. So, give it to me.”

“Yes, because Theo only ever sends you a message when it's about _her_.”Astoria squeezed herself between Draco and the desk, in an attempt to shield her husband from Draco's full wrath. “Please. At least calm down,” she continued with a softer tone, placing a hand on his wand arm. “There's no need to point a wand at Blaise. We're just trying to protect you from harm, okay? And right now, you have an important appointment to think about.”

Clenching his jaw repeatedly, and switching between Astoria and Blaise, Draco considered his options. Yes, they were trying to protect him from harm, but he didn't want to be protected, he wanted to feel the pain, and more so, he wanted to know about _her._

“Please, Draco,” Astoria pleaded once more, stroking over his wand arm, which he finally slowly lowered. “Thanks.”

Draco inhaled deeply, and closed his eyes for a moment. “A compromise,” he then said, “I promise to be in a _good enough_ mood for the appointment with the Hungarians if you hand me the paper now... please.”

Astoria turned around to exchange looks with her husband, who was still holding the paper tightly in his hands. “You okay with that?”

“I think I have to be. I seriously can't use him all grumpy during that meeting.” Blaise slowly opened his arms, and returned his gaze to Draco, who was waiting for an answer. “I swear if you don't behave in that meeting we're going to have a serious talk between friends–”

“I said I _will_ behave,” Draco interjected impatiently.

“We'll see about that.” And with a defeated sigh, Blaise finally handed the newspaper over to Draco, who immediately unfolded it to read the front page.

“ _WAR HERO GRANGER MISSING!  
Is the Ministry incapable of finding their most famous female Auror?_

_Hermione Granger, still famous for being a member of the Golden Trio, and a remarkable Auror, has gone missing while on a case abroad, apparently following a lead in her latest case. Despite several inquiries for a statement about Ms. Granger's disappearance, the Ministry officially refuses to make a statement just yet, maintaining the stance that she might be undercover for the case; however, this reporter knows that they don't have any way of contacting her, nor do they know where she is. According to our source, especially Head Auror Harry Potter is desperate to find any clue–”_

The more Draco read on the front page, the more his heart sunk. He didn't really know what he had expected to read about _her_ , but definitely not this. Not wanting to continue reading—the rest of the article was only speculation anyway—he placed the paper on Blaise's desk, only now noticing how his friends were silently watching him. He rubbed his face, and then raked his hands through his hair.

“You okay?” Astoria asked, sounding even more worried this time than during their morning briefing.

Draco nodded. “When is the next meeting with the British Ministry?” he asked quietly.

“I would need to check your schedules, but as far as I remember, you're supposed to meet up with the Auror department on Friday, and the Vice Minister early next month,” Astoria replied, exchanging looks with Blaise once more.

“Thanks.” Draco tried to put on a faint smile, though he felt like having been hit by a Mountain Troll. “Could you contact Potter for me to rearrange the meeting for this afternoon if possible? If not, tomorrow...”

Astoria checked with Blaise first, who simply nodded. “I see what I can do. Though I doubt he'll have the capacity to just twist it for you. And I will have to re-arrange your schedules as well...”

“Then remind him that I might just delay the delivery of his new security vests he is so eager about if he doesn't agree.”

“All right. I'll try, but I won't make any promises,” Astoria conceded. “But I think you now better leave it to Blaise to call the Irish Ministry about that confirmation,” she added with another look to her husband and an apologetic shrug.

“I'll take care of it,” Blaise concurred with a nod, watching them intently. “As always.”

“Thanks.” With that, Draco started to turn around to leave Blaise's office for his own again. This had been a blow he hadn't expected at all. He had been used to occasionally read about her successes in the newspaper, or about speculations concerning her love life which usually turned out to be just that, speculations. In his mindless walk back, he didn't notice Astoria carefully following him.

“I'm sorry about that blow,” she whispered when she had caught up with him. “Blaise wanted to tell you after the appointment with the Hungarians, you know?”

Draco nodded absent-mindedly. “Can you leave me alone for a moment?”

“Of course...” Astoria smiled in understanding, and watched him slip back into his office. “I still have some of that modified Calming Draught the Healers prescribed you, if you need it for the appointment.”

“Thanks.” Letting out a deep sigh, Draco closed the door behind him, and broke down on the floor.

.xx.

The re-arranged meeting with the Auror Department at the Ministry was the following day, as Astoria had coaxed Harry long enough until he finally relented and agreed to meet earlier than scheduled, despite having other, more urgent problems on his plate.

“You have some nerve asking for a rearrangement right now, Malfoy,” Harry greeted him when he picked his visitors up in the foyer. “And you brought company as well. Hello everybody.” He offered his hand to Astoria, then Blaise.

“Well, _right now_ is part of why I wanted the meeting rearranged,” Draco countered coolly, making sure his visitor's badge was hanging correctly.

“Is Nott in?” Blaise asked, shaking Harry's hand.

“He should be, he has desk duty at the moment. Let's go.” Harry beckoned them to come along; they ended up with Draco and Harry walking in front, and the Zabinis at the rear. It was a mostly silent walk to Harry's office at the Auror Department.

“I see, _desperate_ was putting it nicely,” Blaise commented when they arrived at the Department, walking through the desks towards Harry's office at the end. Every single available Auror was working on the same case—Hermione's disappearance; the mood in the big room was bordering on frantic, as they were either discussing the scarce information they so far had collected or were trying to tap into their sources to find any clue, however small.

Harry turned around, smiling sadly. “You have no idea.” He pointed to one of the desks. “That's Nott's desk if you need to speak to him.”

Blaise nodded, then looked at Draco, who had turned around as well. “We'll join you in a moment, mate. Astoria and I need to have a word with Nott first.”

“Go on,” Draco replied, and then watched them walk over with a smirk. Theo was in for a surprise if those two decided to corner him as a couple, they could be surprisingly intimidating if they wanted to.

“Okay, Malfoy, let's get it over with,” Harry said, smirking as well when he saw his colleague cornered by his former fellow House mates. “I'm pretty sure you prefer talking about why you really wanted to come without them.”

Draco nodded, and followed Harry into his office. He wasn't surprised to find it in the same systematic chaos as he always did—maybe even more chaotic this time because of the frantic search for Hermione. He sat down in the visitor's chair, while Harry let himself fall into his office chair on the other side of the desk.

“I'm probably right if I guess that's about Hermione, right?” Harry asked after eyeing Draco for a moment. “The vests aren't that important to rearrange the schedule, but _she_ would be.”

“Yes.” Draco nodded. Hermione still was the most important person in his life, even if they weren't talking any longer. “I wanted to offer my help. You know I have other means that you can't even consider.”

“Why?” Harry asked, leaning back, his eyebrow raised. “I mean you two haven't talked in years–”

“Doesn't mean I don't care about her,” Draco interrupted him sarcastically. “I still do, that's why I am here.”

Harry took his glasses off, and rubbed his nose bridge. “Look, I don't think this is a good idea. I already have every Auror working on it; and we are going through every detail of her last cases she was working on.”

“What was she working on?” Draco asked, not taking his eyes off Harry. He tried to hide the fact that he didn't like the rejection of his offer, because he really wanted to be part of the search for Hermione.

Harry just shook his head. “Still no.”

“Potter, I've left her in peace for the last eight years, but I never stopped caring about her. I _want_ to help–”

“How do you think you could possibly help?”

Draco shrugged. “You'd be surprised about the contacts and the options I have. You seem to forget that I own a company with business connections around at least half the globe. I can reach faster, and further than you can with your official ways...”

“I have my own network–”

“I know. But it isn't as deep as mine. Let me help.”

“Why?”

“Because it's her. And I promised her once that I won't ever give her up. Let me help.”

“Still no.” Harry shook his head, his arms crossed over his chest.

“Why? You don't trust me, right?”

“Oh, I do trust you enough—after all, Hermione trusted you once too—or I wouldn't let the Ministry make deals with your company. But I do not trust you enough to let you take part in the search. We _will_ find her, these are the best wizards and witches that ever worked as Aurors. You're still too involved, and you would just risk the whole operation.”

Draco couldn't stop himself from sneering at those words. “I'm good enough to make deals, all right. But you won't let me take part in the search for my ex-girlfriend, who—as you probably know— _still_ owes me a proper explanation as to why she left me in the first place.” He noticed Harry's quick downward glance. “Oh, that's rich! You know why she left me and that's why you don't want me to take part. Am I right, _Potter_?”

“I don't know why she really left you. Maybe it was because she finally realised you two do not fit as perfectly as _you_ thought, and it's not even mine to tell anyway,” Harry retorted, straightening up. “I simply do not want to risk the operation with a civilian acting out of bounds.”

Draco shook his head in disbelief, and then raked through his hair. “I can't believe it. Seriously, I'm offering you a way to act outside of your official channels, and you still reject it. Still a Gryffindor to the bone. Hermione wasn't afraid to bend the rules if needed–”

“Something she took up from you.”

“Not really, no–”

A knock at the door announced a visitor, and seconds later, Blaise stuck his head in, greeted with stares from both current inhabitants. “You guys finished talking business?”

“We just got started on the vests, haven't we, _Potter_?” Draco replied, turning his attention back to Harry. “And I think I might just need to up the price for them, given the circumstances.”

Blaise entered, shooting a short glance towards Harry. “You know how the game works,” he said, handing a file to Draco.

“Yes,” Harry replied, with a tired smirk. “Not the first time I deal with you guys. And definitely not the first time I deal with someone who didn't get what he wanted.”

“Okay, let me know if you need anything else. You know how to reach me; but I think I'll better take my wife back to the company before there's nothing left of Nott.”

Harry and Draco both nodded; the latter already checking the file for anything that might be missing, but it was complete, as always. And Draco was in the mood to make this meeting as tedious and annoying as possible for Harry, just to get a little satisfaction from pissing him off for rejecting his offer of help.


	2. Burn, little bird, burn!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few notes:
> 
> a) This story is going to have two narrative strands—one for Draco and his search, and one for Hermione; however, they will be unevenly distributed, with the main focus on Draco's POV...
> 
> b) In this chapter, an empusa is a Fire Creature, basically some sort of human torch. I chose this Creature as a little hommage to the inspiration reeby10's story brought me... :-) (In Greek mythology—according to Wikipedia— an empusa is a demigoddess who seduces and feasts on men, and the fire aspect is only added in a TV series) 
> 
> c) I left Hermione's own Creature form vague on purpose, it will be cleared up in her next POV chapter...

While her friends desperately tried to find her, Hermione was faced with a situation she never thought she would have to go through—not even in her work as one of the few female Aurors, responsible for cases involving Creatures. No, she would never have expected to end up in a fight pit with one of those empusas, having to fight for her life, required to kill in order to survive. Kill or get killed, they had said when they led her up to the fight pit. How they knew about her she couldn’t fathom, because she had forced everyone whom she told about her condition to take an Oath of Secrecy—they couldn’t talk about it, even if their life depended on it. And she had never ever changed her form in those last eight or something years without shutters down and several Concealment Spells cast on her place, so no one could have seen her like this by chance. Yet, here she was, trying to defend herself against an empusa in a pit with only one exit, and through which only one of them would leave the fight pit alive. They were cheered on by what seemed to be a rather exclusive audience looking down on them—some probably even bet a large amount of money on either her or her opponent’s death.

However, defending yourself against a fire creature wasn’t easy if you didn’t have your wand—several of her feathers had already been singed or burned from trying to get away. She didn’t want to get burned alive, but she didn’t want to kill him—her?—either, she had seen enough dead bodies during both the Battle at Hogwarts and her work to last her a lifetime.

“Fight, you little dumb thing,” the empusa taunted her when she tried to get away once more. “Killing you would be more fun if you fought back…”

“I do not want to kill–”

“That’s what you’re here for, you know? Kill or get killed.” The empusa tried to hit her with a row of strong blows, but Hermione was fast enough to either block or avoid them completely.

“I survived a War,” Hermione retorted, and finally started to hit back, her sharp talons leaving marks on the empusa’s skin. “I don’t want any more death.” Gods, the smells in this pit of death were overwhelming—a putrid mix of blood, sweat, excrement, and dying. And on top of that, the smell of burned feathers and singed flesh. Hermione wished she had still her wand with her, but it had been taken when she had been captured; and she could cast only a handful of spells without her wand, neither the Stunning Spell nor the Impedimenta were yet amongst them.

“Fight, you bloody bird!” the empusa cried out when he pushed her into the wall, his arm blocking her throat.

That was when something in Hermione clicked, and she willingly let the creature in her take over control. “You're not going to kill me!” she gurgled, and grabbed her opponent’s head. With her talons, she started to gouge his eyes, until he was screaming in pain, and then pushed even further, wanting to see blood. Hearing his pained screams let the adrenaline rush through her system, until she had only one thought left in her mind—the creature was now in complete control, and it was violent, blood-thirsty.

The empusa finally let go off her, still screaming in pain while covering his eyes. His flames were burning lower, close to extinguishing.

Hermione watched him for the better part of a second, his screaming a very satisfying sound.  Screeching and ignoring the whistling and cheering from the audience above—she hit him in the groin next, causing him to groan and cower in pain. And before he even had the chance to recover from that attack, she hit him in the neck so that he broke down on the ground. She was leaning over him within moments, wrapping her talons around his lower neck, stabbing them into his shoulders. “No one calls me stupid!” she screeched, tightening her pressure on his neck.

“You are if you think you won already!” The empusa gurgled and engulfed himself with renewed flames, trying to push her off again. It was clear that he couldn't see her any longer, his eyes having turned into a bloody mess, but he wasn't about to give up just yet.

Hermione tried to ignore the pain from his newly inflamed skin, and put even more pressure on his neck, driving her talons further and further into his shoulders as well.

But then, the empusa—in what looked like a last attempt of freeing himself of her tight grip—turned himself into a living flame, too hot to touch, or to even stand close. He screamed once more when Hermione pulled out her talons in order to let go of him, and he managed to get up; he still couldn't see her, but it seemed as if he was still able to sense her position through other means—smell mostly, because she  reeked of burned feathers and deeply singed flesh. So, with a loud angry growl, he went after her, chasing her around in the pit.

Hermione was glad he couldn't throw fire balls after her, or she would probably have been burned alive by now—like a roasted duck. There was no corner she could have hidden in, but there was also no corner she could be blocked in by her opponent; she managed to thwart him off several times, each time receiving further burns.

But then, the empusa caught her wrist and shoved her into the wall once more. “Burn, little bird, burn!” he taunted her, engulfing them both with flames.

“No!” she retorted, gasping for the oxygen the flames hadn't yet consumed; it was getting harder to breathe by the second, and she could feel how her skin and feathers started to blister and wither away. The pain was excruciating! The creature in her roared, desperate to get away from the flames, and tried to free itself, but the empusa had her completely pinned to the wall. But then—with the sheer strength of despair—she managed to finally push him off her. “Impedimenta!” she screeched in addition it; to her surprise, he was thrown into the opposite wall, as the spell had worked for the first time after being cast wandless. However, there wasn't time to think about it any longer, so she went straight after him after taking a deep breath to fill her lungs with air. In her renewed attacks, she tried to hit him wherever she could, trying to leave as many deep wounds as she was able to. She especially went for his head and neck, the parts that were protected by the smallest flames, and hence giving her the most access. The creature in her wanted revenge for almost being burned alive; the adrenaline in her system let her ignore the pain caused by the burns and injuries all over her body that otherwise would have driven her insane.

The empusa put up a tough fight, hitting back where it hurt, aiming for her sides and belly, despite the disadvantage of having lost his sight. But he eventually caved to the amount of injuries he sustained during the fight—he was bleeding from many deep cuts and stabbing wounds, even severely from a couple of them. Defeated, he sank to the floor, much to the chagrin of the audience, which commented his breaking down with loud whistling and jeering.

Smirking maliciously, Hermione bent over him. “Kill or get killed, right?” she said, her voice turning more and more into a screech. But when she saw how tiny and scared he looked, now that his flames were completely extinguished, she rather felt pity for him. She struggled with her creature to take back control over her actions, not wanting to turn into a thoughtless monster. “I'm sorry, you know?” she whispered, with her normal voice, not the creature's characteristic screeching tone.

The empusa nodded, his empty eyes staring at her. “We-We all have no choice,” he choked, gasping for air, starting to cough up small amounts of blood. “Just do it fast... please,” he stammered, pointing to his neck.

Hermione nodded, absent-mindedly licking her parched lips. The shouts from the audience were deafening, and they all demanded his death. She looked up for a moment, but all she could see was light, and the slightest hint of railings, but no faces. And then she looked one last time at him, smiling sadly, before closing her eyes. She didn't want to  _ see _ what she was about to do to him—driving her talons into his neck, so that he would bleed out and die within moments, just as he asked her to.

* * *

The last fight was still going on when Hermione woke up in her cell. It took her a moment to realise where she was, and why she felt a mind-numbing pain throughout her body, but then the realisation hit her—she had just been in a fight, and had to kill someone, something she never wanted to experience. The last thing she remembered was closing her eyes, and the sound of the empusa gasping one last time when she drove her talons into his neck as if it were butter; she clenched her hands at that thought. She must have passed out moments later, because she didn't remember leaving the pit on her own. Gods, the scared look of the empusa moments before she was forced to kill him would follow her around forever. No, she won't ever forget that look. Never.

She took a deep breath, and swallowed hard, trying to choke down the tears that threatened to well up. But it was useless, they still streamed down her cheeks. How the hell could she take a life like this, just driving her talons into someone's throat? She, who always tried to save everyone if she could? How did she turn into such a monster? She sniffed, clearly determined not to give in completely to that feeling of grief that was slowly suffocating her. Her brain understood that she  _ had  _ to do it to survive, but this thought wasn't comforting her heart at all. No, it felt too much like a failure.

“You know, crying won't help,” the person in the neighbouring cell said, a cynical tone in his voice. “You will eventually get used to it.”

“Never,” Hermione retorted defiantly; she tried to sit up, and then groaned loudly, as the pain from the sustained burns was overwhelming. “Who are you, anyway?” she said through gritted teeth when she finally managed it.

“Just another captive,” the voice answered laconically; it had a low, rather rich timbre, and most probably belonged to a male.

Hermione looked down her body. She had burns everywhere, from mild superficial ones to more severe all over her hands and arms; and she still  stank of burned flesh, as he hadn't yet had the chance to clean herself as well as she could in these circumstances. The smell was going to stick anyway.

“The way you groaned, you might want to use the Healing Potion they put on your table somewhere...”

Sighing, Hermione took a look around in her cell, and indeed, there was a pot on the small table in her cell. She groaned again when she got up on her feet, and realised that her soles seemed have been burned as well—not as severely as her hands, but enough to make walking painful.

“They care well for their more prestigious captives, you'll see,” the voice continued. “Better food, better medical care—if you want to call it that—and separate cells with some privacy.”

Hermione hissed when she put the first dab of the Healing potion on her arms, as it stung in the first moment before starting to soothe her skin, immediately decreasing the pain. “Prestigious?” she asked, sitting down to treat her feet before continuing with the rest of her body.

“Yes. The rarer or more famous a creature or a person is they capture, the more prestigious they are, and the more money will be bet.”

“I don't think I'm that rare or famous–”

“Just be glad they _consider_ you famous, or you wouldn't get that pot of Healing Potion.”

Hermione continued to slather the potion on every burned spot on her body she could reach; she definitely felt better now, and could feel how the potion started to work its magic. However, it only helped her body to heal, not her soul. It felt torn, broken—was that what it is like after you've killed someone? Was that why Dumbledore had tried to persuade Draco that night on the Astronomy Tower as he had told her one day, because his soul shouldn't be torn like that, should stay innocent?

_ Draco. _ She had broken up with him eight years ago, and missed him now more than ever, missed the safety of his arms, the sound of his voice when he tried to calm her. But what would he say if he knew about her now? What would he say if he knew that she had killed someone? She heaved a sigh. It didn't matter anymore what he might think about her; after all, she had broken up with him, and he most probably had found someone else by now. He deserved someone whole, not tainted and broken like her. Gods, she damned the day of that horrific incident that made her like this, and destroyed her happiness! Now she was here in this hole because of all this! Overwhelmed by all this thoughts and emotions, she curled up on her mattress, sobbing quietly, but with abandon.

“You really are a softie,” the voice commented from the neighbouring cell.

“Why would you care?” she shot back, angered that she was mocked like this.

“Softies usually don't survive as long as the others in here...”

“Sorry if my breakdown seems inconvenient for you.” She hated how her neighbour just sounded like Draco in the first years of their relationship, always a sarcastic remark on his lips. And Draco had been the only one she had ever let get away with it. “It was my first kill. And I survived a Battle.” She sniffed demonstratively.

“Hogwarts. You're one of _them_.” His voice turned cynical, mocking her once more.

“Leave me alone.”

“Then stop crying.”

Hermione only growled in response, she wasn't in the mood for arguing. And she was even less in the mood to think about the things she missed and could no longer have. However, her thoughts were interrupted when she heard the doors to the fight pit being opened. The last fight of the evening was over, and cheering could be heard through the doors, when the opponents were carried out. In the first moment, she couldn't discern who survived, as they both didn't react to anything, but then the body of the loser was carried past her cell - dripping with blood and gore, the skin torn off and hanging slackly from the muscles, and dead eyes staring into emptiness. She saw that it had been one of the animagi that could transform into a probably impressive animal. And now he was dead, the other probably only barely alive. Maybe dying was the better option than trying to survive in this hell?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you do enjoy this chapter, despite it's rather graphic depiction of violence. Please leave a comment if you liked it... <3


	3. Now, look who's here!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, thanks to my lovely beta Laura for proofreading the chapter, as well as to MrBenzedrine for helping me with the plot (and have a last look over the chapter)! You're a great help! :-)

The negotiations with the Hungarians about the possible acquisition of their company proved to be more tedious than Draco had expected it to be. The Hungarian company had long since been a supplier of components for his magical devices, many of them inspired by Muggle technology, such as those modern communication devices the Muggles called mobile phones—the speaking connection had his Development Department almost go crazy before figuring out a wizarding adaption. In order to gain entrance to the markets of Eastern Europe, he had offered to acquire their company for a more than fair price—more than it was probably worth in Draco's opinion. Some three weeks after their last meeting to hand over the acquisition offer, they were sitting in the meeting room again, to discuss the details.

“So, he is basically saying that our offer isn't good enough?” Blaise asked the translator the Hungarians had thankfully brought along; though, even with him, it was still a tedious affair, and Blaise's tone let that shine through. “Why?” Blaise shot Draco a look, who was sitting to his left, and shrugged while the translator conferred once more with the Hungarians.

“They think you haven't clearly pointed out what you plan to do with the workers on site, once you acquired the business.”

“Let me,” Draco said, stopping Blaise from answering, narrowing his eyes at the Hungarians while fiddling with the fountain pen in his hands, with which he had just blotted some patterns on the front page of his file. “As the Head of my Legal Department as well as the Head of my Financial Department can both verify, this is one of the most detailed acquisition offers we have ever written up.” With slightly pursed lips, he watched the Hungarians listen intently to what the translator was telling them, repeatedly nodding. “We have noted our plans with your company under point 4 in the offer, and you will see that we intend to keep everything running as it already is. If at all, changes will be made on an administrative level, not at the base. We intend to keep everyone, but it may be necessary to make redundancies. Anyone who would be laid off based on this will receive a more than generous redundancy pay-out.” Draco looked over his team—Blaise, Pansy, Daphne to his left, and Astoria in her role as the Chief Secretary on his right. They all nodded to his words and waited for an answer from the Hungarians, who were still listening to the translator. “In the long run, we even plan to expand your company, which would create jobs,” Draco added to emphasise his point. To his untrained ear, the Hungarian language had a weird, but a melodic sound; as far as he knew it was definitely one of the more difficult languages to learn—Hermione might like the challenge, though.

“You okay?” Astoria asked quietly while the Hungarians were debating another point with the translator. “You look tired.”

Draco nodded, leaning back. “Just bored. We're discussing details that are clearly pointed out in the offer.”

“Did you sleep at all last night?”

“Not now, Astoria,” he replied, shooting her a warning look. She was right, of course, ever since he had read about Hermione's disappearance a good three weeks ago, he was slowly turning into an insomniac again, going through all the possibilities of what might have happened to her each night instead of finding sleep. And he hated waiting, hated relying on Potter to finally show some sense and include him in the search for his ex-girlfriend. He shrugged dismissively when Blaise looked over with eyebrows raised questioningly.

“My client says that he is still afraid to let you buy his company,” the translator finally continued. “He says it is in his family's hands for generations now, and he wants to make sure it is in good hands, since he doesn't have any heir to take over.”

Draco and Blaise shortly exchanged looks, before Draco answered, barely containing a sigh. “As already mentioned, we intend to keep most things the way they currently are. Your company might be incorporated into this with the acquisition, but it will still remain a separate entity with name and everything.” He leaned forward, having had enough of the game the Hungarians were apparently playing. “Look, if you don't want to sell to us, we might as well find someone else more accepting of our terms, and who might even provide us with components of a better quality.”

The translator quickly told the Hungarians what he had just said, and they just stared at him in disbelief, their eyes wide, and then a storm of words came out that the translator refused to translate to English.

Satisfied to have shocked them a bit, Draco got up. “You have another month to discuss our offer, if you still don't agree with the terms, then I'll look for a more obliging supplier. I have better things to do.”

“Draco!” Blaise let out, getting up as well, but Draco didn't care any longer and walked out with one last shrug. “You take care of them,” Blaise then said to his wife. “Tell them that he didn't mean it...”

“You know him,” Astoria replied, trying to keep a polite smile.

  


“What the hell was that?” Blaise cried out when he reached Draco in his office. “You know full well that they are the only ones who are able to supply us with those components at the quality you demand! Have you lost your mind?”

Draco was expecting his friend to storm after him, so he was leaning against his desk when Blaise came in. “They don't want to sell. We were discussing points that were clearly outlined in the offer, and they were just stalling for time. I was only giving them a deadline to come to a decision.”

“You need to discuss those kind of things with me, you know?” Blaise huffed, coming up to him. “It's not making my job any easier if you keep behaving like that. It's like you're starting to lose your mind ever since I let you have that bloody newspaper. I sincerely hope they find her soon, because you start to become unbearable.”

“If they had let me help with the search, they might already have,” Draco countered, letting his frustration show momentarily.

“And what then? You think she will talk to you then?”

* * *

Draco's wish was granted the very next day, when an astonished receptionist tried to contact him in the early afternoon, but only managed to get Astoria on the internal intercom system. Minutes later, Astoria poked her head through his door, smiling softly—as she always did when she poked through. “Draco? You've got visitors,” she said, sounding surprised.

Draco looked up from the file he was reading through; Daphne had sent him a report on the financial consequences of losing the deal with the Hungarians, and he didn't exactly like her conclusion. “Who is it? You know that I don't like being disturbed at this time of day.”

“I've worked for you for the last at least ten years, I know your habits. I'm the one who has to tell everyone to go away. But I think you might want to receive those visitors, since they insist...” She turned back, and he could hear different voices arguing quietly.

“Let them in,” he uttered, irritated about the hiding game Astoria was playing. And to his complete surprise, he saw Potter and Weasley walk in. “Now, look who's here,” he remarked, sneering and with a growing smirk. “Pansy is in a meeting, Weasley, if you thought about visiting her. _Important_ legal stuff, you know?”

“Hello, Malfoy. I hope we don't interrupt you with anything _important_ either,” Harry replied, ignoring Draco's sneer.

Draco studied the two visitors for a moment; they seemed exhausted, and Potter's shock of hair seemed even more messy than usual—and since when had grey hairs threaded themselves in between the black? Weasley was no better, though Draco wasn't sure whether it was just the search for their common friend, or whether Pansy was wearing him out as well. Draco shrugged; he didn't care enough to even taunt him with it. “I guess I know what this is about. You still haven't found _her_.”

Both Harry and Ron sat down in the visitor chairs; Harry shook his head defeatedly, and pushed his glasses back up. “All the leads we had turned up cold. It's like she was swallowed by the ground.”

“And now you come back to me because...?” As little as he liked to hear the news that Hermione was still missing, Draco couldn't help but gloat at the fact that those two had come crawling back to him for help. “Because I remember when I _did_ offer my help you rejected it, Potter. You didn't want _a civilian_ _to_ _act out of bounds_ —those were your exact words.”

“Yes, I know,” Harry admitted with a sigh. “And I still don't like it, but I don't see another option.”

“Ah, I see. Now I'm suddenly good enough,” Draco retorted. Gods, he loved the look on their faces, the slight annoyance that they _had_ to come to him, mixed with the exhausted worry about Hermione—which he shared with them. “As far as I'm informed, you didn't do your reputation any favours. _The very best wizards and witches that worked as Aurors,_ my arse.”

“We get it, Malfoy,” Ron snapped. “You think we would have found her already if we had let you play along.”

“Well, I let you play with my Chief Legal Officer to your heart's content, and _do_ I complain that it compromises her ability to do her job?” Draco shot back, unimpressed by Weasley's reddening face. After all those years, he was still so easily goaded, it started to get boring. He started to swing his chair from side to side. “Well, you can start begging now.”

Harry demonstratively leaned back, crossing his arms. “I won't go down on my knees, Malfoy, if you want that.”

“I'm not insisting, but it would be a nice touch–”

“Malfoy, we do need your help, so stop it,” Harry interrupted him, glaring now from behind the rim of his glasses. “Stop being an arsehole just because I said no the first time.”

“Well, _you_ wasted three weeks by trying it your way." Draco leaned forward, shooting Harry the most threatening glare he could muster. "I will take it personally if she turns up dead because of your hesitation.” He saw Harry and Ron exchange an uneasy look and realised there was more at stake for both of them than they let on. "Your jobs depend on it," he stated dryly.

"I always hated your ability to draw conclusions from nothing," Harry retorted, and pulled his glasses off for an unnecessary round of cleaning.

"You're like an open book." Leaning back again, Draco twined his fingers in front of him; he still watched his two visitors closely. Yes, they were both open books when it came to guess what occupied their minds—their worry about Hermione was palpable, and it was clear that they were desperate. “I do have a few conditions now that you figure I'm good enough,” he then continued. "And I will insist on them."

Ron turned to face Harry. “I can imagine what kind of conditions he has,” he whispered in a more disapproving tone, frowning even. “He will ruin it.”

“Ron, don't you think I know? We really have tried everything within our grasp,” Harry replied wearily, rubbing his neck. “And maybe he can really help us find her.”

“Oh thank you for your trust in my abilities, Potter,” Draco remarked with a smirk; he had watched them confer for a few moments, still gloating inwardly that they saw no other way than come back to him.

“I don't _trust_ your abilities per se, Malfoy, just that you would literally do anything to find her,” Harry countered; his twitching lips betrayed the irritation he was trying to hide. “I remember you saying that she still owes you an explanation, and you smell the chance now to get it.”

“Touché,” Draco conceded, smirking about the rise he was getting out of his visitor. “However, you could just tell me yourself, because you _know_ the reasons–”

“You know I won't. You will have to ask her yourself,” Harry stopped him, flexing his fingers. “Can we finally get to business? What are your conditions?”

Draco noticed the strained expressions on both their faces - it was clear that they were expecting the worst from him. For a short moment, he felt irritated about it, as he remembered their rather friendly interactions while he was with Hermione. But eight years were probably long enough for any distance to regrow. However, he had thought about this a few times over the past three weeks, especially when it had started to become obvious that they were failing and he was just waiting for them to come to him eventually—against Blaise's and Astoria's advice. “Well, if you really want me working with you, then I want the following: full access to the _complete_ file archive of your Department–”

“Are you out of your mind, Malfoy?” Ron cried out in disbelief. His wide eyes and furrowed brows as well as his gaping mouth showed that he didn't like it at all.

“Ron, shut it!” Harry snapped to a still gaping Ron.

Draco only smirked in response. “In addition, I will work alone—nothing raises more suspicion than having one of your boys tagging along. However, if you insist on team play, I either want Nott as partner, or you, Potter. No one else. Not even Weasley.”

“I don't like the idea of you working alone, but as this will hopefully only be a temporary arrangement, I guess it can be arranged.” Harry sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Draco nodded; he mostly didn't want any of the Aurors tagging along because he might need to do things they shouldn't be part of for both his and their protection—the fewer people knew about this arrangement, the more he could achieve. And he intended to find her alive. “I want to take part in any witness interview you might do in relation to her disappearance–”

Harry sighed again. “I can't exactly promise that, as there are protocols regulating this aspect.”

“Protocols you surely put in place, Potter,” Draco replied, shifting his position in his chair. “Your reforms of the Auror Department were discussed everywhere...”

“Yes. What else?”

“You're going to like that one...” Draco saw them both roll their eyes; they were clearly expecting the absolute worst now. “In the case we find her alive, I _will_ provide for her safety, and this would include a safe house in the case we ruffle some very dangerous feathers–”

“No,” Harry straight out replied. “You can't really believe that I would allow that?”

“Or that _she_ would allow it?” Ron added, with a low growl. “You can't force her–”

“I never said anything about forcing her to talk to me,” Draco replied dryly.

Harry got up; he was no longer able to sit still, clenching his hands. “The Ministry has its own safe houses, we can very well protect her ourselves,” he argued, leaning over Draco's desk.

“Really?” Draco got up as well, knowing that he was almost a head taller than Potter, which made for a rather imposing impression to most. “Wasn't it your faulty—or should I rather say _non-existent_ —protection that let her disappear in the first place? I repeat: _I will provide for her safety_ , Potter. Either you accept, or this arrangement won't happen.” Draco emphasised every single word of the last sentence to make his point, even tapping his finger on his desk.

“You're a bastard.”

“I'm the bastard who still cares for her after those eight years, and who—as you said yourself—will do literally anything to find her. So, I get to decide. Take it or leave it.”

Harry growled; it was clear that he didn't like the last point at all. “I will come after you if you fail to keep her safe. You may have loved her once–”

“Once?”

“–but she is part of my family. So if you fail to keep her safe after we found her, I will haunt you, I will be your personal nightmare, is that clear?”

Draco sneered at Harry's protective attitude. “I never forgot how close you are; she always talked about you like a little brother. But as she is still the person I care the most about, I will make absolutely sure that nothing happens to her. I have my means to keep her safe.”

Harry narrowed his eyes, his lips still twitching. “I will take your word on this,” he finally conceded, letting out another huff.

Neither of them heard the door being opened rather roughly, close to being slammed into the wall. “Potter! What's going on here?” Blaise barked, storming into the room. “I couldn't believe it when my wife told me that you dared to come here–”

“Shut it, Blaise,” Draco retorted, straightening up to his full height.

“No, I won't.” Blaise came up to the desk, forcing Harry to move to the side. “Draco, now you've clearly gone mental! You _can't_ do this.”

“I can, and I will.”

“Mental. Absolutely mental.” Blaise turned towards Harry and Ron. “You have no idea what you've done,” he muttered, leaning threateningly towards Harry.

“I know!”

“Blaise, leave it!”

“No, Draco, I won't! I've watched you for the last eight years, and you're bloody _obsessed_ with her. You don't care about this company, but I do. Even as a good friend, I can't let you do this. You need to move on, to let go. Eight years is enough.”

Harry cleared his throat to get Blaise's attention. “I know the risks of asking him for help. I wouldn't have come here if we had any other way to find Hermione. He is our last chance.”

Blaise shot a short glance at Draco, who shrugged, his arms crossed in front of his chest, clearly not accepting Blaise's interference. “I hope your schedule isn't too busy today, because I'm definitely not finished with you, Potter. Wait outside, then we'll continue in my office, and I have a few choice words for you.”

With another shrug, Draco watched Harry and Ron leave his office to wait outside. “You can't make me change my decision,” he said, sitting down in his chair and demonstratively picking up Daphne's report again that he was reading before Harry had graced him with the visit.

“Sadly no. But I have a warning for you,” Blaise replied, leaning over Draco's desk, a low growl in his tone. “You risk your life's work just to have another chance to talk to her... I will not watch from the sidelines if your actions start to have consequences for this company, have I made myself clear? I _will_ use the power to temporarily dismiss you from your position, and take over until you've come to your senses again. Eight years really is enough!”

Draco knew that Blaise meant every word he said, and that he did have the power to temporarily dismiss him from the position of the company's president—Blaise had insisted on it in his contract, as a sort of safety measure. “You've made yourself very clear,” he finally replied, turning a page in Daphne's report, and then looked up to meet Blaise's irritated gaze. “I know the risks.”

“Good.” Blaise straightened up again, and sighed. “I really wish you could just move on. It's not good for you.” And with one last rather bitter smile, he left Draco's office as well. “Potter, we're not finished,” he said, closing the door behind him, leaving Draco to his thoughts once more.

Alone again, Draco stared at the door for a moment, completely ignoring Daphne's report in front of him. Yes, he knew the risks for his company should his cooperation with Potter and his Aurors go wrong, anything from being permanently dismissed as president and owner to massive financial or legal problems. Yet, a part of him couldn't care less because all he wanted was Hermione back. Now he had to figure out a way how to achieve that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone for leaving a comment on my story! :)
> 
> I do hope you enjoy the new chapter just as much...


	4. How did you get used to it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is again rather graphic with violence, so read at your own peril. But you will finally see what creature Hermione has become.  
> (And believe me, it wasn't so easy to figure that one out... How she became like this will be revealed over the course of the story, don't worry.)
> 
> Besides that, many thanks to Lauren and MrBenzendrine89 for proofreading it, your inputs are greatly valued! :)
> 
> And a heartfelt thank you to anyone who reads this story and leaves a comment. Every single one is very much appreciated, even if I don't respond to all of them. Enjoy!

“And now, let me present the favourite for tonight's main fight: The Vicious Harpy!”

Hermione was overwhelmed by the deafening sound of cheering that met her when she was let into the fight pit; she had already changed into her Creature form minutes ago, making sure she was agile enough to move, as a few patches of her skin were still scarred from the burns she had received in the last fight. And her feathers had not yet fully regrown, giving her the look of a half-plucked goose. “Let this be over soon,” she whispered, taking one last deep breath, and entered the spotlight of the pit, ready to fight for her life once more.

Her opponent was already waiting for her in the pit, a huge black werewolf trotting from one side to the other and back, the yellow eyes fixed on her.

“Oh my gods!" Hermione let out in shock, gasping even. They got to be joking; her opponent looked like Sirius in his animagus form. It felt like a really bad déjà-vu as if she was back in those days when Sirius could only leave Grimmauld Place in this form. She took another deep breath to keep the memory of Sirius' death out of her mind, and how badly Harry had coped with it. 

“Last chance to place your bets, the fight will start momentarily!”

Again, Hermione looked up to the audience, but she couldn't make anything besides the faint form of the railings and the obscured forms of the people attending the fights—no faces or anything that would have given her any clue as to where she was. Not that she had any way to contact her friends on her own, but she still wanted to collect as much information as she could without raising suspicion in the hope that her friends would find her soon. Looking back down, fixing her opponent, she decided that tonight she can't risk hesitating once more, as a werewolf is a more vicious Creature than an empusa, despite the latter's flames.

“Rien ne va plus, ladies and gentlemen! The betting pool is closed...”

With an angry screech, Hermione let the bird in her take control for the fight, which overwhelmed her mind with its own thirst for violence and blood. Gods, she hated having her mind flooded like that, hated giving up control like this, but she had to in order to survive.

And then, with the sound of a horn, the fight started. The werewolf didn't wait long with the first attack, instead, it jumped straight at her, gnarling and baring its teeth.

Hermione, surprised at the move, first tried to avoid the collision with stepping sideways, but the werewolf followed her. She immediately kicked back, the talons on her feet leaving deep marks on the side of the werewolf, which landed in the wall. She followed it, not wanting to give it the chance to get up and attack her again like this. It turned into a brawl on the floor, with the werewolf repeatedly going for Hermione's neck, and her driving her talons into anything she could hit, as well as aiming for the werewolf's eyes to gouge them. 

The werewolf roared in pain when she drove her talons into its lower belly, hitting an organ; in response, the werewolf went wild for a moment, scratching her everywhere.

Hermione let out a high-pitched screech when the werewolf managed to cut her deeply on her thigh, the pain numbed her brain for a second, while the blood sprayed everywhere. Severely enraged by the injury, she pushed the werewolf off her, and got up, screeching once more from the pain in her thigh.

The werewolf was back on its legs as well, ready for another attack. It was bleeding already from several injuries, but especially from the wound on its lower belly, and it was breathing heavily. However, the injuries didn't stop it from jumping at Hermione once more.

This time, Hermione was prepared, and instead pushed the werewolf into the next wall, going immediately after it. Cheered on by the audience, and the blood pounding in her head, she pinned it down, letting out a satisfied screech. The werewolf underneath struggled to get free, but she had it fixed between her legs. Slowly leaning down, she started to push the talons on her fingers into her opponent's eyes, wanting to hear the werewolf scream and see the blood come out of it.

The werewolf tried to get her off with its hind legs, leaving deep marks on her back, but it was useless, as Hermione continued to gouge its eyes.

Oh yes, the Harpy in her had complete control, and it wanted more, revelling in the bloody mess, so Hermione fixed the werewolf's jaw with the rest of her hands, the talons poking into its throat. _Blood_.

Growling deeply, and probably with the strength of despair, the werewolf managed to push her to the side and off. Rubbing its eyes, it turned around and got on its legs, trying to localise Hermione.

Hermione used the moment to take a breath and reassess the situation—she was badly hurt, the wound on her thigh was still bleeding, and she probably had more cuts on her back and in her wings. In addition, she started to feel nauseous from the adrenaline rushing through her system. She wanted this nightmare to be over already, so she launched herself once more at the werewolf, kicking it so hard that she could hear bones crack.

Howling from the additional pain, the werewolf was unable to get up again. It was defeated, but not yet dead. Gasping for air, the werewolf transformed back into its human form—a rare, but not unknown ability—only to reveal a feral, but broken looking woman, covered in blood and open wounds. She started to gurgle inaudible words, interrupted with coughs.

Still on an adrenaline high, Hermione tried to regain the control over her mind, against a resisting Harpy. But it was still her body—and her mind—and the fight was over now. Breathing in deeply, she kneeled down beside the woman, even took her hand to indicate that she was here.

The woman let out an anxious yelp upon the touch and shivered. She tried to say something, but the words got lost in the coughs and the language, as she didn't speak English.

For Hermione, it was a flashback to the end of the fight with the empusa, who had begged her to end his life fast. "I'm sorry, so sorry," she whispered and swallowed hard. The audience started to chant for the kill, which made her feel even more nauseous, almost to the point of throwing up. How could they force her to kill this helpless woman?

“Please,” the woman gurgled, blood drops running down from her lips. “Kill.”

How had she learned those words? Pressing her lips into a thin, white line, Hermione nodded. And then she closed her eyes, just as she had done with the empusa, not wanting to see the moment she killed her opponent. Yet, it was again the worst feeling to drive her talons into the throat of the woman, to hear that last gasp before the woman let out her last breath.

* * *

“They weren't too happy with you throwing up in the pit before blacking out...”

Hermione groaned, her eyes still closed. She realised that she was lying on her mattress in her cell, her body aching everywhere. However, it was her thigh that burned the most, and she could feel a bandage wrapped around it. Slowly, and her eyes still closed, she let her fingers wander over it—it was very crudely done, and it hurt like hell to move the leg.

“And you were bleeding all over them, according to their swearing,” the male voice in the neighbouring cell continued dryly; he must have noticed that she had regained consciousness.

“Leave me alone," Hermione retorted weakly and tried to turn towards the edge of the mattress. "Gods, that hurts!"

“Yes, they had to stitch you back together, you know?”

Hermione responded with a glare towards the wall that separated their cells. Again, she wasn't in the mood to talk—she was too numb from both the physical and the emotional pain. Gods, she had killed another person! She flexed her fingers in response to the memory of driving them into the throat of that woman; she hated it. There was nothing glorious about killing another innocent being, absolutely nothing. Thinking about it, Hermione felt nausea rise up in her throat once more, threatening to choke her. She swallowed hard several times, concentrating on her breathing. It took her several minutes to fight the urge to throw up back down so that she could finally try and get on her feet.

“You're not crying again, aren't you?”

“No,” she replied shortly. Clenching her jaws, she managed to get on her feet. Gods, she saw black for a short moment from the pain in her leg. She pressed her hand on the bandage, in the hope that it would help avoiding losing the stitches while trying to walk over to the table where the guards—or whoever it was—had placed the pot with the Healing Potion for her other injuries.

“I told you that you'd get used to it...”

“I'm not." She sat down on the chair next to the table, and began to apply the Healing Potion on every wound she could reach; again, it stung in the first moment, but then started soothing the skin. "How did you get used to it?" she asked when she was finished, more to distract herself from her thoughts for a moment than out of curiosity.

“It's easier if you don't see them as humans, you know? See them as your next victim, not someone you need to save.”

“They are not my victims!”

“Don't get yourself riled up, little bird.”

Hermione didn't respond to that, but instead tried to get up again to wander back to the bed. “Fuck!” A sharp pain shot through her stitched leg, but she refused to sit back down on the chair. Biting her lips, she made her way back step by step, groaning each time she had to put pressure on her injured leg. Thank the gods that it was a really short distance, and crossed in a few moments. Exhaling, she let herself fall back on the bed.

“You know, you made me curious,” the cell neighbour continued to Hermione's chagrin.

“What?” she growled, turning her back to the wall separating them.

“How did you end up here? I mean, you obviously weren't born like this–”

“I don't want to talk about those things.”

“Have you ever talked about it to anyone? You sure had friends–”

“What about _I don't want to talk about it_ do you not understand?” Hermione growled, her voice screeching even.

“I see. You lost someone over it.”

Hermione didn't respond to that; she didn't want to be reminded about the break-up with Draco. It still hurt, still broke her heart every time she thought about it. And the few times she had seen him in those eight years—at events they both attended as guests because of work or friends they still shared—she ran off because she couldn't bear the guilt. All because she hadn't been careful enough on a business trip abroad for a single moment! She heaved a sigh, trying to loosen the knot in her chest. 

“They don't know?” the cell neighbour asked, his voice sounding more earnest for the first time.

“No,” she croaked, shaking her head.

“Why?”

“Why would you care?” she retorted. “I had my reasons.”

“Sure. It wasn't that you were selfish, right?”

“Stop it!” To emphasise her words, Hermione hit the wall separating them with a Stinging Hex, one of the spells she had mastered without a wand. “I don't want to talk about it. Not with you, not with anyone!”

Unfortunately, that outburst didn't go unnoticed, and a guard in the vicinity that had heard the _bang_ came over to check the situation. "No magic, you filthy bird!" he uttered threateningly when he arrived in front of Hermione's cell; she didn't grace him with a reaction—they were brainless bullies in her opinion, and it was her neighbour's fault, anyway.

"Leave her alone, you moron!" the cell neighbour interfered. "She is just upset."

"Shut up you toothless crone-"

"Let me out and we will see who's toothless! Leave her alone!"

Hermione curled herself up on her bed, listening to the short unfair argument between the guard and her cell neighbour, ending with her neighbour being hit with their Curse as well, albeit only to shut him up. She knew that her punishment was still up, there was no escaping it. So, she inhaled in expectation of the Curse to hit her any moment. It was their ultimate punishment for everything, and the guards loved dishing it out. The Curse had a similar effect to the Cruciatus—yet she knew it wasn't the Unforgivable, as no one who had ever suffered it ever forgot what it felt like. No one. And this wasn't the first time either that she was being treated with their Curse—they had tried to provoke her enough to let her Creature come out after they had brought her here, but she wouldn't give them the satisfaction. No, they could coax her, hit her—with hands or their Curse—all they wanted, she wasn't going to let it out. And she still wondered how they knew in the first place.

"No magic, that is the rule..."

Hermione was hit by that excruciating spell, running through her body like a shot of electricity; her limbs were shaking from her muscles clenching hard, and her brain felt like it was on fire while she started to feel as if she was suffocating. Yet, she didn't want to give the guard the satisfaction of hearing her scream; she rather bit her tongue until she could taste blood. It only stopped when she was about to pass out from the pain, leaving her all feeling sore and gasping for air.

"No magic, is that understood, you filthy bird?" the guard repeated, a malicious satisfaction ringing in his voice.

Still gasping for air, Hermione nodded once. That was all he would get from her as a reaction, and then she heard him walk away again to her relief. Her muscles were still all taut and it took her great effort to stretch her legs again. “Aaahh, fuck!” The wound on her thigh had opened and the bandage was all drenched in blood. Gritting her teeth, and trying to ignore the stabbing pain, she pressed on it, hoping it would stop the bleeding somewhat.

“You okay?” the cell neighbour asked, his voice sounding rather coarse, but sincerely concerned.

“I've experienced worse,” she replied, through her still gritted teeth. “But the wound is open again.”

“Shit... They won't stitch you together a second time.” She could hear him sigh. “But, you know... You know, your type of Creature has some limited healing abilities... I'm not so sure, but since you seem to be a Harpy–”

“I don't want to let it out.”

“What do you have to lose?”

“I hate it." Hermione groaned in pain when she tried to move her leg, the sharp sting overwhelmed her mind for a split second. But—to her chagrin—it made her realise that her neighbour was right. If she didn't want to bleed out, she had to use her Creatures healing abilities; those abilities were rather limited with Harpies, but they were able to heal smaller wounds like cuts and scratches faster, and cause bigger ones to at least close. She just didn't want to give over control to her Creature outside of the fight pit, but the still bleeding wound on her thigh seemed to make it necessary. Breathing in, she closed her eyes and lowered her mental barriers to let the Creature out for the healing.

“Did it work?” he asked a while later, still sounding sincerely concerned.

Having barely regained control over her body once more, Hermione let her hand carefully stroke over her thigh; the wound was still sensitive to the barest touch, but at least it seemed closed, though she feared that a scar would remain afterwards. “Yes,” she whispered. “I'm fine. It would be nice if you left me alone now, however. I can't deal with anything else today.”

“All right. Let me know if you do want someone to talk to.”

She could hear him let out a small disappointed sigh, and it made her smile faintly—he sounded as if he did care somewhat about her, and it made her feel slightly less alone in this moment. Now finally left alone, her thoughts returned to her last fight and the image of that scared woman gasping for air in the pit, pleading to kill her. “I'm sorry,” she whispered voicelessly. “I hope you're in a better place now.” Yes, that thought had a somewhat comforting touch to it, that both her opponents she had been forced to kill for her own survival were in a better place now. “And I hope you can forgive me,” she added just as voicelessly. Wiping a single stubborn tear from her cheek, she then decided that she wouldn't just wait for her friends to find her, but that she would find her own way out of this hell, and gather as much information about it as she could. If they thought they could break her—a war survivor—they were wrong. She would get out of here, and she would be alive!


	5. What's in it for you, Mr Malfoy?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to Laura for beta reading whatever I come up with for this story... :-*

Two days later after Harry's visit in his office, Draco was sitting next to Harry in an urgent Auror meeting, eyed suspiciously by about everyone else in the room—they weren't going to like what Harry would tell them in a matter of moments. As much as they liked the devices his company has been developing according to their needs, they still didn't like his persona that much, probably all siding with Hermione anyway. However, he wasn't here to make new friends, so paid little attention to their mistrustful looks.

“As I can see, everyone has received the note and found their way here,” Harry started, taking a look around. His face was rather grim, his lips pressed together when he wasn't speaking. “The only one being excused is Theodore Nott, who is on a mission abroad, and couldn't make it back on time.” He sighed, and briefly flexed his fingers. “I'm sure you all know Draco Malfoy,” he continued, letting his gaze wander over the people assembled in the room once more, “Without wanting to lose more words, he has offered to help us with Hermione's disappearance–”

“No!”

“You can't be serious, boss!”

“Malfoy? No!”

“QUIET EVERYBODY!” Harry let out, demanding authority. “You all know full well that we have run out of options to find her. I had a very long discussion with the Minister himself about this, so the okay for this comes from the top—and I'm not going to be swayed in my decision. Is that understood?”

Draco still only watched the group of Aurors intently: he would have been surprised if their reaction had been different. Instead, they were all glaring at him now, even Weasley to some extent—as if he was going to be intimidated by a bunch of unhappy boys, just because he wanted to join their playground. No. After all, he led a very successful business...

One of the Aurors stood up, one of the more bulky-looking guys with a face that Draco thought he knew. “He's a civilian, boss, and he isn't exactly known to play well with others. My wife used to work for his company... She used to say that he is very hard to please in any way, and that he makes decisions based on a whim. Do we want that? Someone who rushes into things?”

Draco straightened himself in his chair; it wasn't the first time he heard someone say this. “Potter, may I?” he asked, not lifting his eyes off the still standing Auror. He leaned forward with the shortest of smirks when he saw Potter nod briefly. “Riverside it is, right? Now that you mention your wife, I remember you. And I remember your wife very well, she was a great asset in my Financial Department. I hope the children are doing fine... However–”

Another Auror stood up, a rather sinewy type with a hardened look; his eyes were made of piercing disapproval. “What's in it for you, Mister Malfoy? I mean if we succeed, there will surely be some fame for you–”

“However, there seem to be a few misconceptions about my motivations as well as my person,” Draco continued as if he wasn't in the slightest disturbed by the second Aurors interjection. “I'm not in it for fame—I'm still one of the most infamous persons in wizarding society for my past, my family, as well as my company. I do, however, have personal reasons to join the search, and Mister Potter here knows them better than anybody else.” With that, Draco demonstratively leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

“Personal reasons?” An Auror at the far end of the table stood up. Draco thought he remembered the man from eight years ago; however, the stress from the job had left its mark on his face—he seemed to look older than he probably was. “I can imagine the personal reasons you have; you dated Hermione at one point.”

“Eight years ago, to be exact,” Draco replied coolly. “And I'm not here to explain my reasons for joining you. All I'm going to say in this matter is the following: I'm doing this as a favour for Hermione, not for you guys. And considering my usual price tag, this help comes relatively cheap.”

“ _Favour_ , my arse. You want something in return.”

Draco simply shrugged at this remark; he wasn't going to give that Auror the satisfaction of an answer. “Potter?”

Harry nodded once more. “This joint venture between the Auror Department and Mister Malfoy is only temporary, until we find Hermione—hopefully alive and relatively unharmed. However, there are a few conditions—and I think in light of the situation, his help _is_ relatively cheap.”

“Who is he going to be teamed up with?” Riverside asked, having sat back down, eyeing Draco suspiciously; it was evident that he didn't like the situation at all.

“Mister Malfoy will be teamed up with Nott, as he worked the closest with Hermione on her cases,” Harry started to explain, and then raised his eyebrow when several Aurors wanted to say something, shutting them up. “He will still report directly to me–"

"But Nott is still on desk duty. How come he is on that mission abroad, as well being partnered with _him_?" the sinewy, elderly Auror asked, still standing in his spot.

"Because he was specifically requested in both cases. Now, I don't want any further discussions about Nott. We need every single Auror in this, is that understood?" Harry responded, seemingly calm, but the glint in his eyes showed that he was everything but calm. "Let's continue..." A small sigh of relief escaped him when the other Aurors were all sitting down again. "In addition, the Minister himself grants Mr Malfoy full access to the file archive of the Auror Department, and you will provide him with everything you have gathered so far about Hermione's disappearance.”

“Harry, you know he's going to fuck it up,” Ron piped in, mimicking Draco's stance. “Hermione left him for a very good reason, I don't think we–”

“Ron, my office afterwards,” Harry stopped him with a surprisingly loud growl. “Everyone else, you know your tasks... And I do not want to hear any more objections to his presence, we simply do not have the luxury of losing any more time if we want to find Hermione alive. Meeting dismissed.”

“We will look like utter incompetent idiots if he manages to find her while we couldn't,” Riverside muttered when he got up, just loud enough for Harry and Draco to hear it.

Draco chuckled at the words. “Ah, I remember, your wife has the brain, Riverside. Tell her she can have her old job back when the children are at Hogwarts, she is still sorely missed in my Financial Department.”

“Malfoy, please,” Harry let out in exasperation, then motioned to Ron to follow him.

“Hey, that was an honest offer. His wife really is brilliant with numbers. Ask Daphne if you don't believe me.” Draco followed the others out to Harry's office. “You really talked to the Minister about this?”

Harry turned his head. “Yes. Shacklebolt expects daily reports on our progress in Hermione's disappearance. He agreed to this arrangement with the condition that I keep a close eye on you. Something tells me that it's not going to be so easy.”

“Easy?” Ron remarked from behind, his arms still crossed.

“Maybe. Depends on what I find.” Draco shrugged, then turned around to face Ron. “Drop it, Weasley, or you might fall from your high horse faster than you think. I'm here to help because I genuinely think I can do so.”

Harry quickly looked between Ron and Draco, who seemed to have entered a staring contest. “Hermione's office is just next to mine, Malfoy. Ron and I still have something to discuss,” he finally said, adding a sigh.

Draco nodded, eyeing Ron one last time. “I'll make copies of the files I might need to read through. I'll call you tomorrow.”

 

Entering Hermione's office was like travelling back in time, to better days when he would visit her occasionally to pick her up for a surprise lunch or dinner, or the occasional making out when he picked her up late in the evening with everyone else gone already... She was known for her meticulous file keeping, and it was also present in how the rest of her small office was organised. Everything had its place—the files she handled neatly piled up according to a specific system, the few private items carefully arranged on her desk and the shelf behind it. Draco took a deep breath; he could sense the residues of her magic. It was everywhere in this room, and his own magic still responded to it. This was the closest he got to her in years, and it didn't make it any easier. Maybe when all this was over, and he had his chance to at least get the answers he so desperately needed, he could finally let go and move on with his life. Though, deep in his heart, he still hoped that he could convince her to come back to him. With a sigh, he let his eyes wander over the shelf and discovered—to his surprise—a framed picture of them during a party at one of their friends' places. Carefully, he took it up to have a closer look. She was kissing him on the cheek, and he was smiling rather smugly in response. They had both been rather drunk when the picture was taken, but they both looked very much in love in it; if he remembered right, he had turned his head seconds later and her lips had landed on his...

 

_"You're so cute when you're both drunk!" Ginny exclaimed, holding the wizarding camera up to take a picture of him and Hermione at the party to celebrate her promotion to chief editor of the Prophet's sports section._

_Draco looked at Hermione with a cocked eyebrow, and sipped from his beer; she was_ _leaning_ _against him with her arm around his waist, and her fingers sneaking underneath his waistband ever so teasingly._ _She was most definitely cute when she was drunk, especially when she tried to be all alluring and teasing like right now. Oh, she was sexy as hell, but in her own headstrong, gorgeous way._

 _Smirking and with a side-glance to Ginny, Hermione_ _leaned_ _in further. "You're cute, did you hear that?" she said, giggling, and pressed a kiss on his cheek; that was when Ginny pushed the trigger on the camera, catching that moment._

 _"Oh, you two, get a room!" Ginny said,_ _laughing,_ _when Draco turned his head and caught Hermione's lips for a full, deepening kiss._

 _"You're the only one ever allowed to call me 'cute', love," Draco breathed between kisses, completely ignoring the squeaking red-head, preferring to get lost in that addictive taste of Hermione's lips and tongue on his_.

 

He wondered why exactly she kept this picture out of all possible here. She had broken up with him—and rather suddenly on top of that—why would she keep a memory of their relationship? With another melancholic sigh, he put it back on the shelf to return to his task of identifying the files he wanted to copy for further reading at home.

Next door, he could hear Potter still discuss the situation with Weasley. He didn't exactly understand why the redhead was so adamantly against his involvement in the search for Hermione, but then he had always been a bit miffed at Hermione's choice of partner, and probably never really got over it. When he had been with Hermione, he got along with the whole Weasley family after the expected initial scepticism towards his person—everyone except Ron. Not that he had ever cared much about Weasley's opinion anyway. But he might need to have another word with Pansy about her plans to introduce Weasley to her family, especially if he continued to be such a git. Or maybe he shouldn't and let that annoying redhead just walk into the knife on his own. He would love to witness that!

Thanks to Hermione's meticulousness, Draco had the files easily identified; it was the complete pile on the right side of her desk. He went through the other piles as well to make sure, as her system could always hold a few surprises. That he didn't find anything didn't mean that the got everything related to her own disappearance, but he could always come back to check them out again.

* * *

 

Back in his flat that evening—with the wizarding wireless providing some low background noise—he cleared out one of the spare rooms he never used before to turn it into his private investigation room. Going through them, he quickly realised that Hermione's last cases were all investigating disappearances or kidnappings of both wizarding people and Creatures. So, he separated them into two piles—one for wizards and witches, a second for Creatures, and colour coded each of them to keep track.

“Tracie Wiggins. Disappeared six months ago,” he read aloud to himself, and then tried to decipher a handwritten note from Hermione. Her handwriting had definitely not changed, even back then he had sometimes some difficulties deciphering whether she had written something down in a hurry or whether she had used her own version of shorthand notes; but it seemed that she was just in a hurry when putting down that note on the edge of the page with the victim's personal data. “Unregistered?” He put that file on the floor with that page on top, and checked the next one. “Vernon Lewis. Also disappeared six months ago.” And again, a bit further down, he discovered the same note on the edge. “Unregistered.” He checked the next file. “Selmer Vabsley. Disappeared even seven months ago,” he again read the name out loud, and as expected found the same note on the edge again. “Unregistered.” He then went through the rest of the pile with wizarding folk—there were some that had disappeared almost a year ago, while the latest had disappeared only two months ago; and all of them had the same note at the edge of the page with their personal information. _Unregistered._ Every single one of them. It seemed as if Hermione had discovered a connection, and _unregistered_ could only mean one thing in the wizarding world—they were either unregistered animagi or unregistered part-Creatures, which was not as unlikely as one could think, as their status was more like a legal grey zone. It was probably a detail Potter and his Aurors had discovered as well, but since they were unregistered, it was very hard to verify Hermione's claim. Yet, it was still a first clue.

However, besides that note on the edge of the pages, none of the victims had anything else in common as far as he could see. They all had different social backgrounds, some were even Muggle-borns, others from older wizarding families; nor did their families have any connections to each other, be it through marriage, friendship, or business. Nothing. And yet, they all had disappeared at some point; Draco suspected that they had been kidnapped for some reason. Reading through them again in a chronological order, Draco got the impression that Hermione must have had one of her sometimes brilliant epiphanies and wanted to follow up on it. Maybe that was why she disappeared as well—she had come across something she shouldn't have. Draco sighed. Just what?

 

“Draco? Mate, are you here?” Blaise entered Draco's flat through the Floo Network; he and his wife Astoria were the only two people who were allowed to enter the place unannounced, as a consequence of the aftermath of the break-up when they didn't want to leave Draco alone at all. So, Blaise checked the flat for signs of his friend's presence, until he heard the faint sound of the wireless coming from one of the spare rooms. “I see, you're plunging yourself head-on into this,” Blaise commented, with a sigh, when he discovered Draco attaching case sheets to the wall of the otherwise still empty room. It was exactly what he had expected to find after Draco had told him that he was going to a meeting at the Auror Department; that lunch, he realised that his attempts of persuading Draco to stop it were fruitless, that his friend just couldn't stop. “Astoria wasn't very happy when I told her that you wouldn't come back after lunch.”

Draco finally turned around to face Blaise, a case sheet still in his hand, his wand in the other. “Thanks.”

“Oh, don't thank me, you _will_ hear an earful from her. She hates having to constantly reschedule everything to accommodate to your whims, you know? And you went too far today...” Blaise entered the room, looking around and taking in all the case sheets that were already sticking to the wall. “Is that what she was working on before she disappeared?”

“Yes, they all disappeared over the last year. She was on to something, but probably hasn't told anyone about it.”

“I vaguely remember that this has pissed you off more often than not about her.” Blaise took a closer look at the case sheet already sticking to the wall in front of him. “Gods, her handwriting is still undecipherable!”

Draco checked what Blaise was looking at. “No, she just used her own shorthand here. I remember a few of them, but not that one,” he replied, amused about Blaise's remark. “Anything happened at the company I need to know?”

“Just a small hiccup in the Research Department, a small accident in one of the laboratories. Everything's running smoothly again.”

“What kind of accident?” Draco asked, skipping through the sheet in his hand in order to figure out where the stick it to the wall.

“I think they were working on a way to make connections between wizarding and Muggle mobile devices more stable when something exploded. I don't know the details, but it definitely was just an accident that could happen in any other laboratory.”

“Good. You haven't yet heard from the Hungarians, have you?”

Blaise shook his head. “No. But we only discussed everything two days ago. They might only contact us again on the offer on the very last day of your deadline. You're okay?”

“Yes. It was just weird to enter her office to copy those files. I've visited her so many times there, and it still looks basically the same after all that time.”

“I know I might have overreacted a bit,” Blaise began, leaning against the wall and watching his friend intently. “It's not like Astoria and I don't understand why you want to do this, the break-up was horrible enough.”

“She ripped my heart out, Blaise. And I want answers.”

“Yes, I remember. You were a complete mess for months. It was tough time–”

“Still is for me,” Draco admitted quietly, closing his eyes briefly, before continuing to check the wall to find out where to put the sheet in his hand. “You keep telling me to move on. Maybe if I get some answers, I might be able to...”

“You've rambled so much about wanting answers when you were drunk, I could have that conversation with her myself,” Blaise replied, trying to lighten the mood a bit. However, he knew that Draco didn't believe his own words—his friend still felt too much for the witch to ever be able to really let go. Blaise just wasn't sure that joining the Aurors to find Hermione was such a good idea in the end, not with everything going on in the company that required his attention.

Draco stuck the sheet in his hand to the wall, next to another that was already hanging there. “And you tend to tell me every detail of your last session with your wife when you're drunk...”

“You never complained till now,” Blaise retorted, chuckling briefly.

“I didn't complain, I just stated a fact,” Draco added, now leaning with his shoulder against the wall as well, fiddling with his wand.

Blaise nodded. “Look, Astoria and I might not agree with you doing this, but we know how important it is, so we will keep your back as good as we can,” he said affirmingly. “However, I will stick to my words that I _will_ dismiss you temporarily as president of this business should I—or Astoria—consider you unfit to lead it. We haven't come this far only to see it crumble down, just because you neglected it over your... Sorry, mate, but it _is_ an obsession. We both hope this whole thing will indeed help you move on, enjoy life again... Maybe even find someone else to spend time with, you know?”

Draco nodded, smiling faintly. “Thanks, mate. I know I'm not the easiest person to work with, but I do appreciate both your efforts very much—I'd probably be in St.Mungo's mental ward by now without you.”

“Oh yes, you would be!” Blaise exclaimed, mocking an exasperated tone. “But that's what friends are for.”

“Drink? I feel like one... I don't think I'll find anything else in the case files tonight,” Draco replied, nodding towards the door with a bigger smile on his lips. “And we haven't talked in a while.”

“One drink, then I have to get back. Astoria's parents are supposed to come over tonight. It will be the same conversation as always, anyway.” With a shrug, Blaise followed him out to the living room area where the alcohol cabinet was located.

“Are they still bugging you about finally starting a family?” Draco teased and went for the cabinet while Blaise summoned the glasses to go with their usual bottle of finest Ogden's Firewhisky.

“Yes. Even more so now that Daphne is divorced and has no children either. But honestly, we have enough on our plate with running the company as well as keeping an eye on you. Astoria sometimes complains that it's almost like we already have a baby...”

“To the Greengrass girls.” Seemingly ignoring Blaise's last remark, Draco handed him a glass of firewhisky, and then lifted his to a toast.

“To women. They might drive us crazy, break our hearts, but life's not complete without the love of a woman," Blaise returned the toast, and took a sip from his glass, as always surprised how smooth it was.

“To the women in our lives.” Draco emptied his glass in one go. “Life truly is empty without them.”

Blaise emptied his drink as well in one go; he had noticed the melancholic undertone in his friend's voice. Sometimes, he was just glad that he could marry the witch of his dreams and didn't have to go through what Draco was dealing with—going through his life alone and slowly growing bitter about it. With an affirmative smile, he handed his empty glass back to Draco. “See you tomorrow at the office. And please, get some sleep if you can. You don't want to meet Astoria while suffering from lack of sleep. I'll try to appease her a bit, but I think you might actually need to properly apologise to her this time.”

Draco nodded. “I will. Now go, before she rips my head off for keeping you longer than allowed.”


	6. Furballs and Kneazle-nip

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is another chapter with Draco's POV, not Hermione's as some might have expected.  
> I did mention in chapter 2 that the POV's will be unevenly distributed, with the main focus on Draco and his search for her.
> 
> Besides that, many, many thanks to both Laura and Sara for checking grammar and spelling.  
> And last, but not least, thank you to the Queen of Alpha/Beta reading, Amy—your feedback in regards to basically everything (SPaG, plot, pacing, characterisation, etc.) was greatly appreciated. :-*
> 
> Now, enjoy! :-)

“Back for more?" Riverside taunted from his desk when he saw Draco walk past three days later, heading straight for Hermione's office.

“Say hello to your wife for me, and the offer still stands,” Draco replied with a nonchalant smirk, then disappeared into Hermione's office. Once inside, he took a deep breath. It still smelled like her—a scent of parchment and jasmine, it always had a comforting note to it. It was so strong, almost as if she was here... After another deep breath, and shaking his head, he finally started to go through the rest of her piles to sort out those that fulfilled a criterion; they all had the same note scribbled on the edge of the sheet with the personal information of the victim. _Unregistered._ “Thorough as you have always been,” he whispered, smiling softly, halfway expecting her to retort.

“How's it going so far?” Harry asked, leaning in the door. “Come to any conclusions?”

Draco managed to avoid getting startled upon hearing Harry's voice from the door—he had been too focused on the cases to pay attention to his surroundings. He finally nodded in response to Harry's question while continuing to check the remaining pile once more to be sure. For once, he was glad that he and Harry were still on friendly terms, despite their different positions when it came to _her—_ after all, they still did business with each other. “I think she was onto something. Looks like she hasn't changed that much... Or did she tell you what she found?”

Pressing his lips together, Harry shook his head. “No, she hasn't changed that much. She just wants to be absolutely sure about her ideas before telling everyone else. Drove her partner nuts.”

“Drove me nuts often enough. She was the same with me.”

“Yeah, I remember. What's your plan then?”

Pointing his wand at the pile of files he had sorted out, Draco made copies of them to take home. “I think I'm going all Hermione on you with this. But I'll let you know as soon as I've put the finger on what bugs me with the files I already have at home.”

“Okay.”

“Are you able to decipher her shorthand notes?” Draco asked, shrinking the file copies for easier transport in the business suitcase he had brought along. “I forgot most of it...”

“Some of them. I think she uses it when we're not supposed to be able to read it.”

Draco smiled faintly in Harry's direction. “I already have an invitation for Saturday, otherwise I would have requested you could come over to have a look at her notes.”

Harry straightened up when Draco came to the door. “Yeah, I heard about Blaise's party. Ron told me that Pansy asked him to come along.”

“I hope he said no," Draco replied with a teasing tone in his voice, raising his eyebrow briefly. "He'd take the piss as the only Gryffindor amongst us Slytherins... And my mother is coming as well, I'm already going to hear enough from her about the whole thing." He passed Harry and took one last look at her office before making the last step outside. "I think you'll make him quite happy with a case that requires his attention over the weekend... Just saying." Draco turned around towards the other desks. "See you around, Potter."

* * *

 

“The Black Ferret,” Draco mumbled, going through the last known activities of Tracie Wiggins once more. “Just like Vabsley and Lewis.” He went through the sheet of their last known activities of all the other case files that he had pinned on one wall. “The Black Ferret _,_ The Black Ferret, The Black Ferret _..._ They all went to the same shop. That was the connecting point.” He made a step back, letting out a deep breath. Was that what she had found? Was it that shop? The name rang a bell, but he couldn't say why. It felt like something he should be able to remember, especially if it was a place he had visited once before with Hermione. And he hadn't really forgotten _anything_ connected to her. No, those six years with her, he still remembered all the details. Because she was worth remembering. Yawning, he checked his watch, and realised that he had spent all night delving into these files and Hermione's notes, trying to find that annoying detail he knew was in there somewhere because she had made the connection. The sound of his fireplace coming to life pulled him out of his thoughts, though he didn't move.

“Ugh, please tell me the lie that you went to bed and had some sleep instead of obsessing over this?” It was Astoria this time, standing in the door, shaking her head in utter disbelief at the state of both Draco and the room.

“What are you doing here?” Draco asked, turning towards her, leaning against the wall with his shoulder.

“I had an inkling to better check on you this morning. At least I brought breakfast, but I won't let you off work, mister.” She raised the bag in her hand to get his attention. “Gods, you're falling back into really old habits. I thought you were through this...” She walked in, taking a look around. “This? What's that even supposed to be?”

“These are copies of Hermione's cases,” Draco answered, watching her.

“Draco, please. You really hope to find her? And what then?”

He shrugged, then straightened himself. “I found what she was after,” he replied, ignoring her question. He appreciated her concern, but he didn't need to discuss his intentions with her—right now, the most important thing was finding Hermione again, the rest would come on its own. “Though I might need to leave a bit earlier today, I want to check out something.”

Still holding up the breakfast bag, she eyed him sceptically, a frown forming on her face. “You know exactly that I absolutely hate having to constantly reschedule everything for you. It's not good for your reputation–”

“I said _a bit_ , before the shops close in Diagon Alley, okay?" he interrupted her before she could go into full lecture mode. Gods, he had apologised to her in full form for unexpectedly taking an afternoon off and leaving her to deal with everyone on his schedule that day, and she was still not letting him off the hook. With what he hoped looked like an appeasing smile, he finally grabbed the breakfast bag from her hands and made for the door to get to the kitchen. "I'll be there in an hour."

“You better be, or I'll send my husband to pick you up,” she retorted, following him out, but then turning towards the fireplace. “I'll have some of the Invigoration Draught ready for you when you come in, okay? You know, for the monthly meeting with the Financial Department?”

He nodded. “I've seen the report, I'll be there. And thanks.”

 

“Just remember, don't ever pull a stunt like this again. Because if you muck up the acquisition of the Hungarians, you might have a hard time expanding into Eastern Europe, not to mention what you'd lose out on,” Daphne said, finally getting up from the meeting table, her files all neatly collected in a small pile.

“I know.” Draco tried to stifle a yawn, then got up to let her out.

She sighed, and then followed him to the office doors. “Astoria was right, you look exhausted. Are you really obsessing about _her_ again?”

“Why does everybody keep asking me that?” He frowned briefly, rubbing the back of his head.

“Hey, I get it. Getting over someone is hard, no need to tell _me_. And it wasn't exactly nice what she did to you...” She smiled when he finally opened the door for her. “Thanks. Just let me know if you want to talk to someone else than your two bodyguards for a change,” she added with a wink in her eye and stepped out.

“Hey,” Astoria greeted them with a short smile, as she was still trying to decipher a handwritten report from the Human Resources Department. “You're still up for lunch, right?”

“Yes, little sister. See you later.”

Astoria nodded, and then finally gave up her attempt of deciphering for a moment. With a frustrated sigh, she turned around. “You can join us if you want...”

“Thanks, but no.” Leaning against the door frame, he shook his head. “Not hungry, and I still need to go through a few things before leaving.”

“I'll rephrase it, then,” she countered, raising her eyebrow. “You need to eat, so you'll join us.”

“Astoria–”

“Draco, no." She stood up to meet him on a more equal level. "I know the signs. You don't sleep well if at all, you lost your appetite, and all you can think of properly is _her_. I'm not having any of it this time. You _will_ join us for lunch.”

“Why?”

She sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose. “Because someone needs to keep an eye on you... And most of the time that's me,” she finally said, looking up again, showing one of her soft smiles. “My family is buggering me about having children, you know? And I'd really love to start a family with Blaise, but... It's just that I don't think I have the energy and capacity to raise a child, as demanding as you've been for the last eight years. So, please, do me a favour, and just join us for lunch, okay?”

Too tired to continue arguing with her, Draco nodded. Though, he didn't exactly look forward to sitting at the same table as the Greengrass sisters, being forced to listen to their conversation, and probably even expected to add something. “If there's nothing else on my schedule until then, I'll take a nap.”

“Yes, might be better. You do look a bit like a ghost.”

* * *

 

The rest of the day passed relatively fast, and Draco was glad when he was finally able to leave the company to check out the shop whose name he had discovered in all those files while going through them the night before. As it was Friday evening, Diagon Alley was busy with wizarding folk out for a drink, with a witch or wizard amongst them finishing their shopping. The shop he was looking for was at the other end of the Diagon Alley, so Draco used the opportunity for a walk even though he could have Apparated directly in front of the shop; sometimes a short walk helped to clear his mind, sorting out things. This time, however, he wanted to use the time to prepare an excuse to enter the shop—it sold exclusive treats for magic pets as well as a range of articles helpful to care for other creatures.

"Mr Malfoy! Mr Malfoy!"

Draco only briefly glanced around without stopping his steps. People always recognised him—his generation pointed at him with disapprovingly narrowed eyes while the younger generation who had been born after the Second War usually looked at him in a mix of awe and apprehension, knowing him for his company and the devices they now used on a daily base. It only ever was unnerving when the Prophet ran another story on him or his family, bringing up the old stories once more, reminding everyone of the mistakes they had made—mistakes for which he would probably atone the rest of his life in one way or another. Only with Hermione at his side did this those unnerving moments of pointing fingers and wary glances stop, as nobody dared to annoy her.

"Mr Malfoy! Please, just a minute of your time."

Draco glanced once more amongst the people swarming Diagon Alley, slowing his step. Then he saw a wizard trying to catch up—about ten years younger, in one of those modern, Muggle-inspired wizard robes, and a calculatingly polite smile on his lips. A reporter. Great.

"Thank you, Mr Malfoy." The reporter wizard had finally caught up with him. "Kerr, Morris Kerr. I write for–"

"The Daily Prophet?" Draco didn't hide the disdain in his voice, and continued his walk through the street, picking up speed once more. He wasn't in the mood to talk to a reporter, but had made the mistake to slow his steps as if he was waiting for the other.

"Well, yes. Though, I cover wizarding economics, not gossip."

"Every reporter I've come across is interested in gossip."

"Good point, Mr Malfoy. However, I've heard that your company plans to expand into Eastern Europe–"

Draco stopped. Acquisition plans were usually treated with utmost discretion before the signatures on the acquisition contracts have dried. "How would you know about any plans my company has?" he asked, narrowing his eyes in suspicion. He didn't like the fact that people in his company felt the need to share information.

Morris nodded, his annoying calculating smile still on his face. "A good journalist doesn't reveal his sources."

"Yes, I figured as much. Now, please make yourself disappear." With an irritated sigh, he made to continue his walk down the street towards the shop Hermione had discovered.

"Would you agree to an interview, Mr Malfoy?" Morris said, following him closely.

"No."

"Not even to give your opinion on Ms Granger's disappearance? Your ex-partner?"

"Ms Granger and I haven't spoken in eight years, so I do not have any opinion on her disappearance except for her safe return. Now, leave!" And with a low growl as a warning not to follow him any further, Draco turned around to walk down the rest of the street.

  


“Good evening, sir,” the shop assistant greeted him with a tired smile when Draco entered the shop; he must have been counting the minutes until he could finally close the shop. “How can I help you?”

Draco noticed that the shop assistant, a young wizard, let his eyes briefly wander down on his desk. "I'm looking for some treats for the pet of a good friend of mine. She just got it," he said, playing the ignorant customer. "It's a Kneazle if that helps." His rather fond memories of that furball Hermione had called her pet were useful now. Crookshanks—that was the Kneazles name—had been protective of her, had even scared the shit out of him several times in the beginning of them dating. Until one evening, when the furball just leapt into his lap and curled himself into a comfortable position; that was the day they had formed an alliance to keep an eye on Hermione. It had been a sad day for them both when Crookshanks had passed away, with Hermione mourning the loss of her old furry companion for weeks. Even he—though he would never admit it—still sometimes missed the moments with the Kneazle curled up in his lap, allowed to let his fingers run through its fur. Maybe he should get himself one to keep an eye on him?

“Well, if the Menagerie doesn't have what you are looking for, then we can probably help you,” the shop assistant replied, coming around to the front. “Kneazles usually like treats containing meat, and we have a wide range of exclusive brands here; otherwise, there is something called Kneazle-nip, and they are crazy for it. The Menagerie doesn't have it yet, so other Kneazle owners come here to buy them.”

Draco pretended to listen intently while taking a closer look around the shop. It seemed completely normal—at least to his naked eye. The assistant's behaviour, however, had made him suspicious. Hermione was definitely on the right track, he was sure. “Do you have something really exclusive? Money doesn't really play a role when I intend to make a gift...”

The shop assistant's smile immediately broadened. “Of course. I think I have something in the back that might just be perfect. I'll have a look...”

Draco nodded, putting up his well-practised polite smile. That was exactly what he wanted, being left alone for a moment. Keeping up his smile, he waited until the assistant was out of sight, and then pulled out his wand to point it at several points throughout the shop. Revealing Charms didn't just work to point out humans in a room, they could also be used to uncover hidden magic. As a result, the door was glowing green for several long seconds, a confirmation that there was indeed magic at work. And he knew what kind of magic it was—another modified Revealing Charm, letting the shop owners know whether the incoming customer was just a normal wizard, just as he was according to the assistant's slightly wavering smile, or whether they were hiding something, like an animagus or half-Creature form. Yes, they had all been here, and had their secret uncovered in such an inconspicuous, but cunning way. And not a single Auror had come to this conclusion? Potter seriously needed to have his teams checked...

“So, there you are, sir,” the assistant said when he came back, holding a small package in his hands. “This is as exclusive as you can buy when it comes to Kneazles...”

* * *

 

“Hey, you made it, even almost on time!” Blaise greeted Draco when he finally arrived at the dinner in Blaise's house on.

“Yes, got held up by Potter who has an impeccable timing. He wanted to verify my report, but I told him to piss off for the evening. It's Saturday, and he can't even take a short break...”

Blaise led him to the living room, where everyone else was already seated. “One rule tonight. Astoria and I do _not_ want to hear anything about Hermione and the case of her disappearance. _Anything_. Understood? Anything else goes—work, gossip, Quidditch, whatever. Just not _her_.”

Draco nodded reluctantly. Maybe it was better that Hermione was off the table as a topic, knowing most of his friends—and his mother as well—would probably try to either berate him for it or dissuade him. Because eight years were enough. For them, not for him.

“Good.” Blaise flashed a relieved smile. “Ogden's, as usual?”

When Draco joined the others, his mother immediately got up to greet him with a hug. “You look tired, my dear.”

“I'm fine, Mother,” he replied, returning the hug.

“Oh, Pansy here was nice enough to bring me up to date about what's going on, since you didn't feel inclined to let me know about it...”

Draco threw Pansy an irritated glare; she just shrugged and took a sip from her wine glass. “I'm fine, really. I just help out Potter. And that's all I'm going to say about it.”

“I don't think so, my dear.”

“Is that why you came tonight?” Draco asked, trying to contain his irritation about how the evening was starting. His mother's presence was surely another attempt by Blaise to talk some sense into him—so much for no talking about the situation...

She shook her head. “Well, Blaise was kind enough to extend the invitation, and I wanted to see you.”

“Pansy, move,” Draco hissed.

“There's enough space for everyone,” Pansy retorted calmly, not moving a single inch from her spot on the two-seater. “And I was talking nicely to your mother...”

“The hell you were.” Draco ignored her icy stare and instead sat down next to his mother on the three-seater, causing Daphne to move to the other end. “Anyway, anything else happening in society that I supposedly need to know about?” he said, leaning back. Thankfully, Blaise came back with the glass of Ogden's Finest Firewhisky for him in one hand, and the bottle in the other. Nursing the glass—severely tempted to just empty it in one go—he leaned back on the sofa.

“Did you tell Potter to give Ron a task over the weekend?” Pansy asked, smiling, but with a provocative tone.

“It's not as if you did him a favour bringing him here,” Draco retorted, taking a first sip.

“I haven't seen him in weeks, you know?” she said, keeping her provocative tone. “Just because he is looking everywhere for your ex-girlfriend–”

“She was his ex too.” Draco decided that downing the firewhisky in one go was the best option, as grumpy as Pansy seemingly was. “His first.”

“Pansy, stop it,” Daphne shot across the sofas when the other was about to retort something to Draco's remark. “You really wouldn't have done him any favour, as nice as he seems...” She leaned back, lining up with Draco, who was playing absent-mindedly with his empty glass. “I can't really understand what she sees in him,” she said, just loud enough that he could hear her.

With a smirk, he turned his head to look at her. “I don't either, but he seems to treat her right. You know how picky she is with men...” He raised his glass. “Blaise, where are your hosting manners? My glass is empty!”

“The bottle is in front of you on the table,” Blaise retorted from his spot on the armchair, nursing his own glass of firewhisky.

Narcissa, who had until now watched her son interact with the others, leaned over to him, with a smile that didn't even bother to hide her concern. “Why are you late? Has it something to do with–”

“As I said, I helped Potter with something,” Draco answered evasively, and then leaned forward to fill his glass once more. He didn't expect anything else from his mother, and that he was sure that was why Blaise had invited her. Sod him.

“I've read the articles, Draco,” she continued, ignoring his interruption. “And I know you still haven't given up on _her,_ so why are you late?”

Draco glanced at his mother, who was still eyeing him sceptically, her eyebrow just ever so slightly raised. He hated that look because it usually meant that he was in for a word or two from her later. “I thought there was a promise of dinner, Blaise,” he eventually said, nursing his glass.

“What?” Blaise turned his head, having been in a discussion with Astoria and Pansy, but then just waved at him dismissively.

“Don't ignore me, Draco. That's rude–”

“Everybody knows I haven't given up on _her_ , Mother,” Draco retorted, and emptied his glass before getting up. “It's a promise I gave her once.” With a deep sigh, he made for the terrace, needing a breath of fresh air or two. It had been a long day after all, and he hadn't really had any decent sleep. He was sure that his mother would take the opportunity to follow him.

“Why?" Narcissa had indeed followed him outside and closed the terrace door behind her, a worried expression on her face now that they were alone for a moment. “Why now?”

He leaned against the railings on the side of the terrace and looked out onto the gardens, as small as they were compared to those of the Malfoy Manors he grew up with. “I never stopped caring about her, you know?” he finally said with a quiet voice.

Narcissa came closer, holding out her hand. “I know. I remember how miserable you were when she–”

He turned to look at her, biting his lips, clenching the railing with his hands until they were white. “I want answers. She owes me that. And this is an opportunity to get them—if we can find her alive.”

Narcissa came to stand closely in front of him, the soft smile she always had for him on her lips, though her eyes were still narrowed. “Please be honest with me... I'm just worried about you. What Astoria told me doesn't just sound like you only want to find those answers. You're neglecting everything else—again.”

“I'm not. I just...” With a sigh, he looked out to gardens once more. “Eight years, and I still bloody miss her, okay? It still hurts after all that time... You of all people should know how it feels to be separated from the one you love–”

“Don't bring your father into this. You know that this is different,” she objected coldly. “Astoria thinks you're falling back into your obsessing habits, and I think she's right. I don't say that you shouldn't try to help to find _her_ , but you shouldn't forget your priorities. You have a company to think about, and you risk everything with your behaviour.”

Still looking out, he nodded slowly. “I know.”

“Look at me, Draco.”

Closing his eyes, he turned his head towards her. He hated having his actions questions by everyone, but especially by his mother. Why couldn't they just understand that it was something he _had_ to do if he ever wanted to be able to find anything resembling closure? Clenching his jaw briefly, he opened his eyes to look at his mother and put on a faint smile to appease her.

“I can't tell you anymore what to do... I can only warn you to be careful what you get yourself involved in. I know she was special, she brought the best out of you, and she made you happy, but... but is she worth risking everything you worked so hard for?”

“She is,” he whispered. “And I know the risks.” He straightened himself when he saw Blaise about to open the terrace door, glad for the interruption. He considered pulling the migraine card to get out of this evening, as he started to feel exhausted, but he knew that his mother would be disappointed if he did that.

“Dinner is ready if you want to join us,” Blaise said, only sticking his head out.

“We're coming,” Draco replied, and beckoned his mother to lead the way back inside.


	7. You tricked me!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all your lovely comments, it's great to read that I seem to be able to keep you on your toes with this story, and I do hope I can keep it up! :)
> 
> Many, many heartfelt thanks to Laura for beta reading this chapter! Your help is very much appreciated! :-D
> 
> And last, but not least, I bow to the Queen of Alpha and Beta Reading, MrBenzedrine, who provided comprehensive help with basically everything, from commas to plot holes, thus keeping me on track. May she never ever change...

“Nice to see you again, mate,” Theo said with a broad grin when he stepped out of the fireplace in Draco's flat, brushing the soot off his clothes. “I was a bit disappointed that I missed the meeting.”

“That's why you're here now,” Draco replied with a simple nod and a much smaller smile; though he didn't say it, he was just as glad to see Theo again, as their main contact had always been the notes about Hermione. But now, they were working together as partners and Draco had something planned for this evening. And he had been lucky to get the evening off at all, as he originally had dinner plans to meet a business partner about some informal deal renegotiations; however, the other side had postponed the dinner to a later date for whatever reasons, saving him from having to argue with a head-strong Astoria about a reschedule, who was adamant that he attended the dinner as it was rather important for the company, regardless how informal it would have been.

“I guess they didn't take it so nicely that you joined us.” Theo followed Draco through the hallway down to the spare room, where the walls were now completely plastered with all the information Draco had gathered from Hermione's files as well as the information the other Aurors had handed over rather unwillingly. “Wow. You didn't waste any time...”

“Potter wasted enough,” Draco replied laconically and went over to the small table he had installed in the room to put his drink and food somewhere. “Drink?”

“Knowing your taste in firewhisky, absolutely.” Theo still looked around, checking some pages on the wall more closely, nodding repeatedly.

“Here.” Draco handed Theo one of the filled glasses, and joined him. He was watching Theo closely, who continued to go through the pages pinned to the walls. Potter had told him that the Minister had been against letting him work completely on his own, but that he would let them work out the nature of their partnership. And that was what he was doing now; he wanted to know how useful Theo would be as a partner.

“Thanks.” Theo lifted his glass in a silent toast, and then took a sip. “Always the good stuff.”

Draco nodded, and swirled the glass in his hand. “Can you read her shorthand?” he asked.

After what looked like an amused side glance, Theo shook his head. “I know I should be able to. After all, I worked the most with her.” He finally turned towards Draco, nursing his glass. “She preferred to work on her own; I think that's why Potter gave her the other office...” After a small sigh, he took another sip, leaving only a few drops in his glass. “I mean she was- _is_ a great Auror, one of the best in the department, but she never let anyone get close, except for Potter. I remember her when she was with you, and she isn't like that anymore.”

“What do you mean?” Draco asked, beckoning Theo to continue; as much as Hermione was still prevalent in his mind, he barely knew what she was like now.

“When she was with you, she always seemed happy, confident, and just generally nice to talk to. But now, ever since she came back from South America, she just buried herself in her cases, kept mostly to herself, though she was still polite with everyone. Whenever I was partnered with her, I always got the impression that she is lonely.”

South America. She had been gone for over a year, like she disappeared from the face of the earth. Draco remembered that it had felt as if she fled from him, from what they had. No news, no written apology, nothing. And then she was back, invited to the same charity event. And ever since, it had always been the same story whenever they attended the same events, as far and few in-between as they were—he could only watch her from afar, and when she discovered him, she usually managed to leave. To keep a sigh from escaping, Draco emptied his glass, relishing in the burn the firewhisky provided. “What do you know about the cases here?” he then asked, returning to the reason of Theo's visit.

“Looks like the disappearances she worked on over the last year. First, there were only a few disappearances, but she eventually discovered more and more of them, sure that they were connected. I worked with her on most cases—visiting families, interviewing witnesses, stake-outs, that sort of thing. I guess she finally found the connection...” Theo shrugged, and finished the remains of his firewhisky, probably to avoid a sigh. “You know, you have a similar expression like she had just before she got kidnapped–”

“Similar look?”

Theo nodded. “She was up to something, and she wanted to tell me the day after... after...” He sighed, and emptied the remains from his glass, avoiding Draco's gaze. “Look, I was there when she got kidnapped. We were supposed to gather information about a case of international counterfeiting, wand wood to be exact. After Weasley, Potter trusts us the most, that's why he sent us.” He played with the empty glass in his hands. “That evening, we just checked out a location we were told about. I mean she is a very capable witch, not easily overpowered. I was just around the corner, distracted by some movement in the vicinity, when I heard her scream. I ran as fast as I could to where I thought she was, but I was too late. They had her and were gone moments later. Potter wasn't exactly happy that I didn't keep her safe. I've never seen him this livid... That's why I was on desk duty when you came in that day to offer your help. I _technically_ still am, but since Potter needs everyone on board–”

“Did you see who it was?” Draco asked. It was easy to imagine how livid Potter could be, as hot-headed he used to be, though he had seemingly learned to have his temper in check.

“Only for a couple of seconds before they Disapparated. If I remember correctly, they were four people, one of them holding her tight. It happened so fast, mate, I didn't have a chance!”

Draco nodded as a sign that he wasn't holding it against his friend. Aurors had of the more dangerous jobs, and attacks like this could be considered one of the risks, as much as he hated that it had been Hermione in this case. “I don't remember any details in the various articles in the Prophet–”

“Yeah, because Potter pulled every string to keep them from publishing further details after that first article. And we are not allowed to give any interviews, or we risk desk duty for a whole year _in the best case_.”

Draco nodded, and went for the small table to refill his glass. “More?”

“Yeah, thanks.” Theo handed him his glass, and sighed once more. “So, how do you want to go about this? I mean it's my fault that they got her, I'd do whatever it takes to get her back.”

Draco closed the flask deliberately slowly, trying to gain a few seconds before answering. He trusted Nott, that wasn't the problem—after all he had asked for him as a partner if he had to work with one. It was just that he preferred to work on his own in this, as he didn't know where his search would lead him. “I prefer to work alone–”

“I can see that,” Theo replied, pointing at all the covered walls with an amused smirk.

“I mean it, Theo. I don't play well with partners, you can ask Blaise.”

Theo chuckled at that. “Oh, I remember perfectly well. You were already like that in Hogwarts, and later as well. The only person you ever _played well_ _with_ was Hermione. And I think Blaise doesn't like me that much for ignoring his warning about not sending you any further messages about her.” Still smirking, he took a sip from his glass. “I think it might be better anyway if I stayed at the Department and dig for any information you might need, or check out things you can't yourself. I guess Potter wants you to report to him directly anyway...”

“What else?” Draco shrugged and gulped down most of his firewhisky in one go. “So, has Potter mentioned what his next move is?”

Theo shook his head. “He was still discussing things with Weasley in his office yesterday evening when I finally left. But my guess is that we're going in for a raid or similar in the next couple of days. I'll keep you up to date on that.”

“Thanks.”

* * *

 

The next day, Draco was buried once more in his job as president of his company, currently trying to work through a rather lengthy memo from Pansy about a plagiarism suit from a smaller business in France. They were threatening to sue his company over the supposed theft of intellectual property, and Pansy had noted down something he wasn't exactly sure he understood. Maybe it hadn't been such a good idea to discuss things with Theo until very late last night, he already wasn't getting a lot of sleep, and he was now on the bare minimum to function properly—with the help of a fair amount of coffee as well.

So, after unsuccessfully trying to contact Pansy over her notes, Draco decided to pay her a visit. He noticed a few of her subordinates who had their desks just outside watching him intently, her secretary even slowly shook her head when he wanted to enter Pansy's office without a knock as he usually did. And then he heard why. She wasn't alone, but had a visitor. Smirking in the direction of the secretary who had just shook her head, he very carefully opened the door to peer inside.

“Ronald, you promised me!” Pansy was in a bad mood, according to the higher-pitched voice. “I told you weeks ago that it's my mother's birthday on Friday and that I want to bring you along. And you said you would come. Don't you dare backing out now!”

“Pans, love–”

“Don't _love_ me! I mean it!”

“I can't just take an evening off when one of my best friends is missing–”

“You're not the only Auror! And me telling you about the birthday party definitely pre-dates _her_ disappearance! It's always _her_...”

Draco saw Weasley slump in his chair he had placed next to Pansy's for the discussion. Pansy had been nervous when she had told him her plans to introduce the redhead to her family, something she had never before considered with her previous dates and short-lived relationships. So, for Pansy, introducing her partner to her family was a very important step—the Parkinsons were also rather old-fashioned, traditional family when it came to courting, but surprisingly modern in other aspects.

“But they won't like me,” Weasley continued his weak protest. “I'm sure they won't like that their daughter is dating someone like me.”

“Oh come on, that was—what?—almost twenty years ago. If my family still believed in that shit, I wouldn't be dating you, would I?” Parkinson replied, growing impatient with her boyfriend's reluctance.

The whole scene brought up memories for Draco of a similar discussion with Hermione about meeting her parents for the first time. His reluctance back then had a different reason, with their loaded history and what not; that was why he had tried to keep it off as long as possible until Hermione had had enough one day and just invited her parents over without any previous warning.

.xx.

“ _Hermione! You tricked me!” Draco was pacing up and down in their kitchen, trying his best to keep his voice down. “You invited your parents on my only evening off this week!”_

“ _Draco, please. You called it off so many times with flimsy excuses... They are nice people, and they want to meet you.” Hermione was leaning against the small kitchen table, her hands placed on the edge; she tried not to laugh at his irritation._

 _He stopped and looked at her, shaking his head in disbelief. She had used Slytherin tactics on him—she, the Princess of Gryffindor. “And what am I going to tell them? I'm sorry that I bullied your daughter all through the school years because I didn't know any better? They aren't going to believe_ _me_ _anyway.”_

“ _They will. Just talk to them, okay?”_

“ _You are going to pay for this later,” he replied with a brief smirk and took a deep breath. “And you know what I want.”_

_Hermione put on an innocent look, but the spark in her eyes betrayed her. “If that's the price I have to pay for you to finally meet my parents...” She straightened herself, and then placed a soft kiss on his cheek before going back into their living room where her parents were waiting with a glass of wine._

_Draco followed her moments later after bracing himself with another deep breath. He had been looking forward all day to finally have an evening off he could spend with her, and now he had to face her parents instead._

“ _Young man,” Mr Granger greeted him when he finally joined them in the living room. “I see our daughter hasn't told you about our visit.”_

_Draco missed the short glance between Hermione and her father while he was pouring himself some wine, though his nerves were asking for something much stronger. He still didn't know what he was supposed to say, despite Hermione having told him a lot about them; his brain just entered panic mode, blanking out all the details that might have been useful._

“ _We have heard quite a bit about you when she grew up,” Mrs Granger continued, “and not all good.”_

_Draco nodded, his eyes fixed on Hermione. This was hell. This was payback for putting her through a meeting with his parents. “I wasn't exactly nice to her, that's true. But–”_

“ _You were a bully.”_

“ _Yes.” Draco barely managed to keep a sigh from escaping. “And I owned up to all my mistakes—paid my due so to speak. I apologised to Hermione for everything, the hardest thing I've ever done. And I'm still grateful she accepted it.” To calm his nerves, now that this was all said, he gulped down the rest of his wine._

“ _So, Hermione told us that you've taken over your father's business?”_

_Draco was glad for the change of topic, and refilled his glass before offering the bottle to the others as well. “Yes. I'm in the process of implementing new structures, which is why this would have been my first real evening off in a while.”_

_Mr Granger politely declined his offer for a refill. “What are you producing then? Hermione couldn't give us a proper answer. I hope it's not related to those ideas your family had...”_

“ _Dad!”_

_Draco had to chuckle at her Hermione's false indignation; she had never been a good liar anyway. “I can assure you, if I still believed in those things, Hermione would have never considered giving me a chance.”_

“ _I would have hexed you to Mars,” Hermione interjected amused, and finished her wine while the others laughed._

Oh yes, the whole Granger family had played a trick on him that evening—Hermione had later told him that she had talked to her parents about him, convincing them that he was no longer the bully he had been, up to the point of giving him a second chance; however, they couldn't just let the opportunity pass to grill him a bit. The next time he met them, he realised that he had passed their judgment and was now considered part of the family. Those days, he had felt like he had finally made it—he had got the woman of his dreams, his company was about to take off with all his changes, and his past was finally no longer looming over him.

.xx.

“And what am I supposed to wear, Pansy? You know I don't exactly own anything that could pass as decent for such a–”

“Ron, please! My family isn't half as bad as you think they are...” Pansy leaned forward, and a small exasperated sigh escaped her. “We can shop for decent robes tomorrow evening, but I'll decide what colours,” she then added and placed a soft kiss on his cheek.

That was the moment Draco used to finally enter the office. “I'd rather do what she says, Weasley.”

“Listening again, Draco?” Pansy leaned back into her chair, glaring at him for interrupting the private moment.

Draco just shrugged; he didn't care too much about her private matters, but would have preferred if it was kept out of the office. “I need a clarification on your notes about that plagiarism case–”

“And you couldn't send a office note for that?”

“No.” Draco lifted the file he had brought along. “I tried to contact you, but you didn't respond...”

“I think I'll go back to work,” Ron said, still slightly flustered from the interruption, and got up from his chair.

“Weasley, was nice to see you again. Just do her the favour of meeting the parents, you might just be _positively_ surprised,” Draco said when Ron passed him at the door.

“Oh, shut up,” Ron replied, glaring at him for a brief moment and then stepping outside with a smirk. “See you tonight, Pans.”

“I'm inclined to let you go earlier, so that he has enough time to make it up to you.” Draco came closer and sat down on the other visitor's chair that was still in its original position, placing the file on the desk.

“You're an arse.”

“I'm your boss.”

“Doesn't change a thing. But I'll take you up on your offer and take the rest of this afternoon off.” Pansy huffed and straightened herself. “Now, about the notes... What do you want to know?”

“Would it change a thing if I let you put the robes for your boyfriend on the company expenses?” He opened the file with her notes, distributing them over the desk, a smirk playing on his lips when he heard her huff once more.

“Maybe.”

Even knowing her more refined taste in fashion, he knew that her clothes shopping spree with Weasley would barely make a dent in in the expenses account; though he would have to discuss it with Daphne later on that it wasn't meant for private use. “Now, you wrote that their suit was based on insubstantial claims, but–”

“They are. It's only a small local business that we haven't even heard about before, and I had them checked out, their patents included. I have to admit that they have a few rather ingenious ideas, but we definitely haven't stolen any of them,” Pansy explained, visibly calmed and back in work mode.

“So, you suggest...?”

“Make them an offer for a business cooperation. That way we look like the good guys, and if they don't accept, they make themselves look bad. They can't possibly win, anyway.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

“I'll discuss the possibilities with Daphne, as always.” Pansy briefly smiled. “How's the search going? Ron told me that you've been partnered with Theo.”

Draco glanced at her for a moment, then nodded. “We found what she has discovered. Theo thinks there's going to be a raid in the next couple of days,” he said, leaning back. “I just hope we find her soon.”

“We all do, Draco. Even if just for _your_ sake. And mine.”

He really hoped that the raid would bring them further information about Hermione's whereabouts, he was done waiting and going through files—he felt the need to go after those who had dared to kidnap her, to unleash his revenge on them for making her suffer. With a simple move of his hand, he let the notes slide back into the file, ready to be picked up. “You know what? Take tomorrow off as well,” he said, getting up. “Just let me know how the meeting went, _every_ embarrassing detail.”

Pansy groaned, but couldn't stop one of her famous smirks from escaping. “You two,” she said, shaking her head. “But now, go and brood a bit more in your office.”

With that, Draco stepped outside, nodding briefly at the secretary before making his way back up to his office. However, he didn't plan to _brood_ there, but wanted to visit Burke's who had informed him about the arrival of new rare magical items, a good opportunity to question the shop owner about his knowledge of the disappearances. Officially, Burke's was a simple shop with a licence to deal with magical items, but it was also one of those place to go for information about the murkier things in wizarding society. One of those places that wouldn't tell Aurors anything , but who might be more willing to provide _him_ with information—for once, the Malfoy name had its advantages and he was going to use it. And maybe Burke's even did have some rare magical item that would interest him.


	8. Don't tell me about being too involved!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many, many heartfelt thanks to Laura for beta reading this chapter! Your help is very much appreciated! :-D 
> 
> And last, but not least, one last bow to the Queen of Alpha and Beta Reading, Mr Benzedrine, whose comprehensive help, from commas to plot holes, helped keeping this chapter on track. May she never ever change...
> 
> Enjoy! :)

“Everybody knows their task?” Harry said; taking one last look at the Aurors that took part in the raid of the shop. He and Ron had discussed the last details of the procedure the evening before when Theo had left, like which Aurors to take, and how to enter the building without too much of a warning to prevent the staff from escaping. He smiled faintly when he saw the grim, but determined look on the other Aurors' faces; they all knew what was at stake here. “Let's move!”

Two of the Aurors placed themselves at the back entrance, two stood on the other side of the still empty Diagon Alley to watch the main entrance, and two more stood in front of the neighbouring buildings, just out of view from the shop. Harry and Ron would be the ones entering the shop like customers, asking for the manager; the others would enter upon a previously chosen signal.

“I'm sorry, we're still closed, gentlemen,” the staff member on the ladder said when he saw Harry and Ron enter, stopping from checking the shelves. He wore simple, but well-tailored black robes, and his hair was traced with grey strands. “We'll open in about twenty minutes, and would gladly serve you then–”

“Oh, I didn't see a sign outside,” Harry replied, pointing over his shoulder to the door, sharing a glance with Ron.

“We don't have one, but everyone knows we open at nine on Fridays. It's only twenty _to nine_.” The staff member climbed down the ladder, throwing them an irritated glare, but otherwise remaining polite. “But if you gentlemen absolutely insist on being served right now...”

“We'd like to see the manager, actually,” Harry said, and saw the shop assistant go pale for a second before catching himself again.

“He's not in yet,” the staff replied. “He'll arrive shortly before the shop opens.” He went behind the counter to put his notes from the shelf check away. “Can I help you instead?”

“Should we wait until the manager comes in?” Ron asked with a low voice so that only Harry could hear him.

Harry shook his head. “The stake-out said he is already in.” And with one last glance, he discreetly sent off the signal for the other Aurors to storm the building; seconds later, the place was swarmed with Aurors going through every single room. “Get me the manager!” Harry bellowed, following everyone upstairs to search the rooms.

“You better stay where you are,” Ron said with a grim smile, aiming his wand at the assistant who by now looked rather petrified.

“There is one!” an Auror shouted from the other end of the floor, and everyone ran towards him to catch the suspect, casting blocking spells on the door, causing the wooden door frame to creak and crack from the onslaught of magic.

When Harry and the others arrived in the room seconds later, the Auror and the suspect were still in a fight, trying to immobilise each other with the Stunning Spell. Harry thus pulled his own wand to disarm the suspect, and was about to utter the words when the suspect turned around and took a step towards the window.

“You won't get me!” the suspect said as he jumped out of the window, out onto the street beneath.

His duel opponent wanted to follow him, but was held back by the Auror closest to him. Thus hindered, he only could look out of the window to see where the suspect would land on the ground, muttering curses.

“He escaped, for Merlin's sake!” an Auror next to Harry let out in frustration. “Jumping out of a bloody window–”

“He Apparated,” the one at the window said, turning around, his eyes wide.

“It's okay, Stephens. We still have the guy downstairs, and probably lots of new information,” Harry replied, putting his wand away again. There was no one else in here, according to his information, so there was no need to keep his wand out. “Take everything you can find. And check every corner for hidden magic!”

“Yes, boss.”

With a sigh, Harry turned towards the stairs to join Ron in the shop. “Stephens, you come with me. I need your expertise with the _Revelio_ Charm.”

* * *

 

“Potter!” Draco bellowed when he arrived at the Auror Department. Theo had informed him about the raid as promised, but he had been stuck in a bloody meeting he couldn't get out of. When he had arrived at the raided shop earlier, everyone had already gone, and business was almost back to normal in the street. And Potter had the nerve to go on without him, to leave him out!

“He's in the meeting room, Draco.” Theo got up from his desk to approach his friend. “I informed you as soon as I knew–”

Draco shook his head. “Just got stuck at the company. Daphne wanted to go through a few things regarding a new offer, on Pansy's orders.” He looked around and saw that everyone else was watching them. “Meeting room you said?”

Theo nodded, and pointed towards a set of doors. “The one on the far left. The other two are used for interrogations. They brought back half the shop, and one suspect–”

“Thanks.” Draco left his friend for the meeting room, where he barged right in. “You!”

Harry only briefly looked up from his notes, acknowledging Draco bursting into the room with a simple nod. “What's the problem, Malfoy?”

“You conveniently forgot to inform me about the raid. You know I wanted to be there as well–”

Now Harry straightened up, not in the least intimidated by Draco's rage. “This case doesn't allow for any mistakes. You're still a _civilian_ , Malfoy, and they aren't allowed to take part in raids–”

“We had a deal–”

“And I have rules to follow. Whoever has Hermione, I do not want to give them _any opportunity_ to escape justice because of a mere technical mistake such as allowing a _civilian_ to participate in a raid.”

“Oh, bugger your rules!” Draco retorted, stepping closer, his hands long since turned into fists from the restraint not to hex Potter on the spot. “You know I'm your best shot at finding her. Or why haven't your precious Aurors found that shop earlier? It was all there in her files!”

“We know now,” Harry replied calmly, pushing his glasses back up.

“Yes, _three weeks_ late in my opinion. Don't you think it strange that–?”

“We'll deal with that situation when we have found her, understood? No need to make accusations right now,” Harry interrupted Draco, and closed his notes demonstratively. “And you better go back to your company–”

“No. I want to sit in during that interrogation.”

“Not like that. You're far too involved personally–”

“And you aren't? You're basically her _brother_ , Potter.” Draco came one last step closer, his hand reaching out for the file that was still lying on the table. They had a clear agreement that he was allowed to sit in on all interrogations and interviews pertaining to Hermione's kidnapping. “Don't tell me about being _too_ _involved_.”

Harry pulled the file out of Draco's reach. “Not for your eyes. You don't have the clearance for those.”

“Liar.”

“You can watch the interrogation from the observation room next door. Ron and I will do the interrogation; _we_ are trained for such situations.” Harry shook his head quite decisively when Draco opened his mouth for a retort. “Don't. The more you argue, Malfoy, the less inclined I am to let you even watch it.”

Draco huffed at that, but saw no other option than to agree with it; watching the interrogation from the observation room was better than nothing. “I hope you have some _decent_ coffee around here,” he finally said, barely holding back a sneer, but conceding to the argument.

“Thanks.” Harry nodded briefly, then picked the file up to leave the room. “I'll have some coffee from the cafeteria brought down for you.”

.xx.

About ten minutes later, Draco was installed in the observation room, sipping a surprisingly good cup of coffee from the cafeteria while watching Harry and Ron enter the interrogation room through the one-sided window. Draco noticed that it wasn't the same shop assistant who had served him that evening he had visited the shop; the captured staff member looked older, like he was higher up in the hierarchy of the shop—at least his clothing and well-groomed hair were an indication of someone higher up in the ranks.

“You won't get any information out of me,” the staff member said, his arms crossed in defiance, and with the confidence of someone who thought he couldn't be touched; Draco could only weakly smile at that misplaced confidence.

“Thomas Barsky,” Harry read out from the sheet in from of him. “Forty-five years old, working at this shop for nine years. Wand: unicorn hair, chestnut, 10 ½ inches, rather unyielding. Is that right?”

“Yes, yes. That much you and your rough dogs got right.”

“Have they started yet?” Theo entered the observation room and closed the door quietly behind him, in his hand another cup of coffee. “They're quite good at this, you know?”

Draco only nodded in acknowledgment, his eyes fixed on the people in the interrogation room; Potter was still listing all the personal information from the sheet, to the growing irritation of the suspect.

“Are you done listing my information? I _am_ the one.” Barsky was now drumming his fingers on the table as if to release some of his tension.

“You know why we arrested you?” Harry asked matter-of-factly, and pushed his glasses back up his nose.

“What the hell do I know? _You_ raided the shop. I'm just there to sell exclusive treats for your pets and animals–”

“That is just a cover,” Ron interrupted. “The shop is used to spy on unsuspecting customers, revealing their status.”

“Status? What status? I just sell them treats–”

"We found several cleverly placed Revealing Charms in the shop, all adapted to show whether a customer was a full wizard or hiding a Creature form."

"I don't know anything about those Charms," Barsky replied, still drumming his fingers on the table, but now shaking his left leg as well.

"He knows about them," Draco remarked, sipping some of his coffee. "He's not some simple staff member, is he?"

Theo shook his head. "No, he's more like second-in-command, worked his way up, as far as I could find out. Don't know why he was filling shelves that morning..."

"...maybe they were put in place by a previous owner, what do I know?"

"We know for a fact that those Charms are connected to a series of disappearances and kidnappings," Harry continued; Draco was surprised how calm he still seemed, he would have threatened the staff member already.

"People disappear every day," Barsky said, shrugging. He was now relentlessly drumming on the table, close to the point that it started to annoy Draco while the others in the interrogation room still ignored it.

"You face life in Azkaban for compliance in kidnapping, maybe even murder."

"Life? In Azkaban? For working in a shop?" Barsky laughed, albeit rather nervously. "You can't pin that on me. Oh, no."

"We can," Ron replied in a harsher tone, and then got up from his seat. "And we will. You were in a position to decide what happens with the information about a customer." Ron leaned down next to Barsky in very intimidating proximity. " _You_ decided whether someone would get kidnapped or not."

"Me? No." Barsky tried put some distance between him and Ron, but failed miserably as the redhead pulled him back rather roughly.

"Your son works in the shop as well?" Harry asked, shaking his head briefly as a silent instruction for Ron.

Barsky grew pale and gaped several times. "Anthony? He's innocent. All he does is wiping the floors and feeding the few animals we got. He's not involved in anything..."

"They got him," Draco remarked. "He's telling the truth about his son."

"And they are being nice today. Weasley usually plays the menacing one, Potter's the brain playing all the cards until he has them."

"Potter and brain," Draco said, chuckling.

"Yeah." Theo chuckled as well. "He's about to play the last blow..."

"Please leave my son out of it, he doesn't know anything," Barsky begged, trying to move away from Ron who was towering over him.

"Tell us what we want to know," Ron said with a low growl, leaning in, "and we might consider your son innocent."

“I-I can't. They would kill me." Barsky shook his head violently. “My family...“

Harry placed a small vial on the table. “You know what that is, don't you?" he asked, pushing the vial closer to the suspect.

Barsky grew more nervous, shrinking back from the table. “Veritaserum?"

“Can they do that?“ Draco asked in the observation room, taking another sip of his coffee.

“The use of Veritaserum is a legal nightmare,” Theo replied with a sigh. “We _could_ use it during an interrogation, but whatever is confessed under its influence cannot be used as legal evidence in a trial. But this one is already about to crack, anyway...”

“We are trying to find one of us,” Ron said, placing his hand on the back of the suspect's chair, creating thus a rather intimidating closeness. “So, we might _not_ hold back from using every means possible to find that person again.”

Barsky tried to move away from Ron, visibly uneasy about the implied physical threat, and then slumped even further into the chair, letting out a defeated sigh. "You don't know what you're up against," he said. "Absolutely no idea."

Harry straightened his glasses. "Tell us everything you know and we might even consider a deal about your sentence."

"I'm as good as dead anyway," Barsky said bitterly, shaking his head. "Just make sure my son is safe. _They_ don't treat traitors nicely, and their family even less so."

"Who's _they_?" Ron asked, straightening up.

"They don't use a name, everyone just calls them _The_ _Organisation_ if they are ever mentioned."

Harry wrote down a few notes. "Go on."

"They are everywhere, in every government, economy, sports, take your pick. You won't recognise them, but they are everywhere. I'm just a very small wheel in the whole structure, I only know what I need to know... But whatever, or whoever they take, they won't give it back easily, if at all." Barsky took a deep breath. "Please, promise to keep my family safe, and I tell you how the shop works."

"We'll decide about that depending on what you can tell us about the shop," Harry replied. "Go on."

“Burke's told me something similar yesterday when I tried to ask him whether he knew anything about those disappearances. Never saw him so nervous,” Draco said, swaying the rest of his coffee around in the cup, his eyes still fixed on Barsky, who was spilling everything he knew. “He told me to forget about it, that I would put myself in great danger for even asking.”

“Yeah, Burke has always been a little shitpants.”

Draco nodded. “Yes. But he's more afraid of losing money, apparently. Because he gave in when I told him that I might take my money elsewhere.”

“What did he say?” Theo briefly contemplated drinking the remnant of his coffee, but then threw his cup away instead.

“Babbled about an underground organisation that also controls art dealing, said they were everywhere, and that they were very dangerous to even know about. He made a very nice offer on an item that had just arrived in his shop, just to make me leave.”

“A dangerous underground organisation... Funny we haven't heard anything about them before.”

“Funny indeed,” Draco agreed, and threw his cup in the bin as well. “I think it might be wise to keep an eye on your colleagues... Something's not quite as it should be. Or can you explain to me why no one came across the shop before I did?”

Theo narrowed his eyes, an indication that he was mulling about the question, and then shook his head. “Have you told Potter about this?”

Draco shrugged. “Just dig a bit and let me know.” He checked his watch, and let out a deep sigh. Astoria wanted him back a long while ago. “I need to head back to the company, with a small detour to the florist.”

“Okay, I'll let you know what else Barsky has told us.”

* * *

 

“Hey, you're still here...” Late that evening, Daphne knocked at the frame of Draco's open office door, a tired smile on her face. “Is my little sister making you work overtime?”

Draco looked up, and shook his head. “I just don't feel like going home, you know?”

“Yeah, I get that. It's just lonely at home.” She leaned against the door. “I'm heading down to the Black Quill for an after-work drink. Care to join me?”

He leaned back, taking a deep breath while stretching his arms. It had been ages since he had been out for a drink; he usually had one at home these days while working through Hermione's files. After another heartbeat, he sighed. "Why not? It's not as if I'll get anywhere here or at home tonight..." He sorted the files in front of him, and got up to join her at the door.

"Astoria shouldn't be so tough on you, I think," Daphne said when they made to leave the company together to walk down the street towards the Cauldron that would let pass through to Diagon Alley. "You're doing the right thing."

“You're the only one,” he replied with a brief smile, offering her his arm to hook in.

“Yeah, they aren't the ones who went through a horrible separation. All happy in their marriages and relationships. Moping is left to us.”

He chuckled at her over-dramatic huff to emphasize her words. “You're still in contact with Edwin?”

“You know his name is Edward!” She nudged him in the side with her elbow. “And no, I haven't spoken to him in over a year. Last I heard is that he left for the States with some new fling. He didn't even stick to the one he thought better than me.”

“At least you made him pay...”

“Yeah, Pans helped with that. She told me what I should do, and even recommended someone. No one walks over me like that. Or you for that matter.”

“She didn't exactly walk over me, Daphne,” Draco said, trying to contain the disappointment in his voice.

“Ah yes, she walked _out on_ you, now I remember,” she countered bitingly. As they had arrived at the Cauldron, they stopped to face the inn; it was, after all, only a short walk through Muggle London from their company to the Cauldron, and one they both like taking for the bit of fresh air it provided, instead of Apparating into Diagon Alley.

Letting go of her arm, he held the door open. “Ladies first.”

“Thanks.” Daphne stepped in, going straight for the back of the pub without acknowledging anyone she passed; Draco followed straight behind. “Let's see if we can get the private booth at the Black Quill, not everyone needs to hear us mope around,” she said and tapped the bricks to open the passage. “To an interesting evening.”

Draco nodded, returning the soft smile she had shown before she stepped through the passage. “To an interesting evening.” To his own surprise, he was looking forward to it, for once not feeling pressured to keep it together as he would have with Astoria. And thankfully, he didn't have to show up that early at work the next day.


	9. A Bundle Of Feathers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, many, many heartfelt thanks to Laura for beta reading this chapter! :-*  
> And many thanks to all those who listen to my doubts and ramblings while trying to figure out the story... :-D

“Merlin, I still feel full,” Astoria groaned when they arrived on their floor in the company after a lengthy business lunch with the Vice Minister of Magic. “So much to discuss, so much to eat.”

“Yes, he does have a fondness for food,” Draco replied. He felt similarly stuffed. The Vice Minister definitely liked to have his meetings to discuss economic regulations over a lunch involving several courses and a selection of desserts; it did provide a more relaxed atmosphere to discuss topics like regulations, though, and he suspected that the Vice Minister did it to get what he wanted from all parties involved. Astoria had come along today to replace Blaise who was away at a conference, which had turned out to be a good decision.

“Ugh.” She sat down at her desk and sighed. “Does he do it always like this?”

Draco chuckled when she added a yawn. “Yes. All about the atmosphere.” He opened the door to his office.

“Thank the gods we don't have to do that every day. I wouldn't be able to keep that figure!” She narrowed her eyes at him when he dared to raise an eyebrow in mock. “Neither would you,” she added with a sigh. “I think I'm going to lie down on the couch in Blaise's office for an hour...”

“One hour, then I expect you to be back at your desk.” With a brief grin, he watched her nod with a tired smile before getting up to walk down to Blaise's office. When she disappeared from the floor, he finally stepped into his own office.

Once inside, he noticed a package on his desk that wasn't there when he had left for the lunch. After putting his coat away, he started investigating the package without touching it. There was only his name on it, but no sender was mentioned on the simple brown wrapping paper. If he learned something from the years after the Second War, it was that anonymous packages shouldn't be taken lightly—after all, he had received more than his fair share of hate mail from people who were unhappy about the second chance he had been given, ranging from simple howlers to more dangerous anonymous gifts wrapped in similar brown paper. This was no different. With a sigh, he opened a line to Blaise's office on their internal communication device. “Astoria? I need you back in my office.”

A few seconds later, Astoria finally responded. “You said an hour. It hasn't even been five minutes,” she said with an audible yawn.

“Come up here, please,” he replied, trying to stifle a yawn himself as the usual sleepy low after such a lunch finally caught up with him. “Someone placed a package in my office. No sender whatsoever.”

“WHAT? Did you open it?”

“That's why I want you up here.” He could hear her sigh, feeling slightly guilty for robbing her of the promised nap time. But he didn't want to open the package alone in case it contained something dangerous that he needed help with, nor did he want to have it sit on his desk for another hour until Astoria would be back anyway. Maybe he should let her go earlier instead...

“What package?” Astoria asked when she finally stepped through his office door, sounding irritated. “Is someone complaining about your past again?” she said once she spotted the package on his desk; she started investigating the package closely—a Revealing Spell included, but it didn't indicate anything. “I think it's safe enough to open it.”

With a nod he beckoned her to proceed as she had her wand out already; with concerned curiosity, he watched her carefully slice the brown wrapping paper to unveil a card box that slowly opened itself. At first, he only saw a bundle of feathers, but when he stepped closer, he recognised what it was with a loud gasp. “Maude! They killed Maude!”

“Maude?”

“The owl!” All of a sudden, Draco was fully alert. Someone had caught and killed Maude, the owl he and Theo had used to send messages. He had considered her his pet owl, always happy to treat her a bit when she had delivered a message. And now they killed her! He knew there would be consequences and casualties, but he was still shocked that they had killed his favourite owl.

“Draco? What is it?” she asked, her brows furrowed in question, pointing at the dead owl in the box. “Is this about your involvement with the Aurors?”

He nodded. “Yes. They knew exactly which owl to take–”

“DRACO!” Astoria exploded. “They know how to reach you! We told you not to get involved because it is dangerous, and now look! You received a _death threat_!”

“It's not the first one I received–”

She hit him on the shoulder in response. “No. Just no. You are risking everything now. I can't... No!”

“Stop it, Astoria!” he replied irritated, rubbing his shoulder briefly. “Do you know what that means? We have one of them in the company. Entrance to my office is restricted...”

“Even worse!”

“And secondly,” Draco continued, ignoring her angry retort, “I really haven't done much yet, except for going through files and visit a shop as a customer! You know I'm not _that_ easily deterred–”

“Oh, _how_ I know!” she retorted, throwing her head back in frustration. “You have no idea how much I hate it that you so _easily_ risk everything, just because you can't let go!”

“I know the risks I am taking. I'm the one carrying the burden of responsibility for this company with my name and fortune! Not _you_!”

“It doesn't give you the right to risk all our lives, just because your ex has gone missing! Draco, you haven't spoken to her in eight years,” Astoria continued, infuriated by his reply. “You really need to let go, it's not healthy anymore–”

Draco growled. “Out.”

“No.”

“Take the afternoon off, for all I care. But I'm _not_ going to discuss my inability to let go with you. You're not in my shoes; you have no bloody clue how hard it really was to get through the last eight years. I want answers, and I'll get them. Now, OUT!”

“I was there the whole time, for Merlin's sake! I've seen you at your worst, so, don't tell me I don't know how hard it was!”

“Oh no, you don't! You in your happy marriage with Blaise; you have no idea how much it really hurts to lose someone you love, how much it really shatters you to pieces. It fucking hurts seeing you and Blaise every single day, knowing that I could have had the same with _her_. Don't you dare tell me you know how hard it is to keep going when you have no reason to.” Draco took a deep breath to keep some of his control, or he would hex this infuriating and  overbearing witch in front of him who had the audacity to believe she knew what he had been through. “I'm NOT going to let this chance go. Oh no!”

“Draco! For fuck's sake, you can't be serious!” she shouted, her hands stemmed on her hips, staring him down. “THIS is your life's work! You can't just risk everything because of–”

“OUT!” Draco closed in, forcing her to take a step back; the few objects on the desk started to shake. “I _know_ what I do.” He growled when she attempted to say something in response.

“Calm down, please,” Astoria said, sounding more concerned than angry, when she noticed the shaking objects. “You know what happens if you don't.”

“Out,” he repeated, closing in on her once more, thus slowly forcing her backwards out of his office.

“Just wait until Blaise is back from the conference. _This_ has consequences, my dear,” she said, once outside, meeting his furious stance with an equally enraged stare. Huffing loudly in contempt, she Summoned her  things and then turned around to storm off. “Don't even expect me to come in tomorrow.”

* * *

 

“Hey,” Theo greeted when he saw Draco arrive in the Auror Department in the early evening, which was busy with preparation. “I got your message, but I'm afraid I can't make it tonight. Potter just informed us that we're going to raid another place.”

Draco nodded and placed a shrunken package on Theo's desk. “They killed Maude.”

“What?” Theo immediately re-sized the package and opened it. “Gods, no! She was my favourite owl!” he let out in shocked disbelief when he saw the dead owl inside the box.

“I liked her too,” Draco admitted. “Astoria freaked out about it, though.”

Theo smiled faintly, closing the box again. “This is a threat, after all. They _can_ reach you.”

“I know. But how would they know about my involvement? I didn't exactly go public with it.”

“Only the Auror Department and your friends know about it. But there is definitely something off. I started paying closer attention after your remark during the interrogation two days ago. Files are changed, information disappeared.”

“Any idea?”

Theo let his eyes roam over the Aurors present in the main room, resting for the briefest of moments on Riverside who was getting ready on the other side of the room. “Yes, I have, but I might know more after the raid...”

“Malfoy! What are you doing here?” Harry said in surprise, coming over to Theo's desk when he saw the visitor. “You see that we are a bit busy right now.”

“And yet, you forgot to inform me once more, Potter,” Draco replied with a sneer, but otherwise unmoved. “However, you might be interested in the fact that I received _this_.” He pushed the box with the dead owl towards Harry.

“A threat.”

“Someone in your team doesn't like me being involved.”

Harry eyed him sceptically, then switched to the box. “You do know what you are implying, right? A saboteur in my rows...” He shook his head in disbelief, and then let out a deep sigh. “Okay, we'll deal with it after the raid because we leave in five minutes.” He nodded at Theo as a sign to get ready, then returned his focus to Draco. “And before you ask—no, I can't allow for you to come along. Rules are rules.”

“Astoria would kill me without any hesitation if you let me,” Draco replied with a bitter sounding chuckle. Their argument was still lingering in the back of his mind, as well as his breakdown moments after she had left. His office had looked like a mess from the discharge of magic; only when Daphne asked if she could come by with a question did he actually clean it up. In addition, he wasn't looking forward to discussing the situation with Blaise as soon as he had returned from the conference. “Did Barsky give you some valuable information then?”

Harry nodded. “A few names, a couple of places.” He turned to face Nott who was still standing next to them. “Get ready or stay behind, Nott! I need every man this time...”

With a smirk, Draco watched Nott collect his wand and his spell-protection vest, besides whatever else Aurors brought along to a raid, then returned his attention to Harry once more. “Would you mind letting me have a word with Barsky since you won't allow _for me to come along_?”

Harry stared at him for a long second, the slow chewing motion showing that he was mulling over it. “He's in isolation for security reasons, plus you wouldn't get anything out of him anyway.”

“I take that as a _yes_ , then,”

“I didn't say that.”

“You didn't say _no_ either.”

Harry rolled his eyes at this response, and then pushed his glasses back up. “Fifteen years and I still hate how you Slytherins turn every word in my mouth.”

“Yes, we know, Gryffindors are more about face value and everything.”

Harry briefly narrowed his eyes at Draco, but then relaxed again. “Well, since you're a part of the investigation team, I won't stop you from talking to Barsky, but you better behave.”

“Oh, I always do,” Draco countered, raising his eyebrow, thus earning himself a low groan from Harry. “I promise, Potter. I know how to deal with people—if I want to.”

“Good. See you later.” Harry nodded once, and then went over to his office to collect his gear before joining the others, leaving Draco alone in the main room of the Department.

.xx.

A short while after—a detour to the cafeteria on the top floor included—Draco was waiting for the security guard to open the door to Barsky's cell, two paper cups of coffee in his hands.

“If anything happens to the suspect while you're in there, you will be made responsible for it,” the guard said while pulling the cell door open, warily eyeing Draco. “Order from the boss.”

“I get it,” Draco replied impatiently. “I have his _permission_.” That was stretching the truth somewhat as Potter hadn't explicitly given him the permission, just that he wouldn't stop him from it. But then, he really didn't say no either. “Wouldn't be the first thing they try to pin on me either,” he added with a short sneer.

“Three knocks if you want to leave again,” the guard instructed as the door was finally open wide enough for Draco to enter.

Draco nodded and stepped inside to meet a rather confused Barsky, who immediately sat up from his cot. However, he waited until the guard had closed the cell door again before he started speaking, preferring the conversation to be as private as it could be. “I don't think we have met before–”

“Mr Malfoy, I presume? Your fame precedes you,” Barsky said, eying him sceptically. “What gives the honour?”

Draco quickly scanned the room, but there was no other seating option other than the cot already occupied by Barsky. With a faint, but what he hoped to be a friendly smile, he handed one of the cups to Barsky. “The good stuff from the cafeteria.”

Reluctantly, Barsky accepted the cup, and finally moved to one end of the cot to let Draco sit as well. “So, you haven't answered my question, Mr Malfoy. What brings you here?”

“You could help me.” Draco sat down, careful to leave enough space between him and Barsky.

“Help you?” Barsky chuckled, then took a first sip from his cup. “Yes, the good stuff indeed. Did you bribe Potter to let you in here?”

“Potter isn't the type to take bribes,” Draco replied. “Too much of an honourable Gryffindor.” Draco took his first sip of his coffee as well, enjoying the slightly bitter taste on his tongue. “I offered to help them find one of their own, as you know by now.”

Barsky nodded, taking another sip. “Yes, that Hermione Granger, the _Golden Girl_...” He shrugged dismissively when he took the cup down again, tapping against its sides. “But I told them everything I know.”

“I don't believe you did. You told them what they needed to know, but nothing more.”

“So they now send _you_ in to get the rest?”

Draco chuckled, shaking his head briefly. “No. I'm here on my own.”

“But you still think I'll tell you everything?” Barsky briefly raised his eyebrow, then took another sip from his coffee. “I told them the truth when I said that I'm only a small wheel in the whole organisation.”

“Yet, you still know more than you told them.”

Barsky said nothing in response, just stared at him for a long moment, squinting his eyes in what looked like an attempt to remember a detail. “Now I get it,” he eventually said. “You're here out of personal reasons. Of course... You and Granger were a couple. I remember my wife talking at length about your separation when it was in the papers.”

Draco simply nodded as an acknowledgement. “A long time ago. We haven't spoken in years–”

“And yet, here you are, helping in the search for _her_.” Barsky chuckled, and then emptied his cup.

Draco didn't respond to this; he didn't have to explain himself to everyone remotely involved in this case. “I heard you mention an organisation during your interrogation,” he then said, noticing the quickening tapping of Barsky's fingers in response. “What do you really know about them?”

“Nothing that I haven't already told Potter and his friend. You can surely read up the protocol,” Barsky replied. “Might even be faster.”

“Not for what I want to know. And I usually get what I want.”

“Malfoys always do, don't they? Though didn't exactly work out for your father, right?”

Draco noticed the bitter tone in Barsky's voice; he was simply trying to lash out in despair. “Tell me what you know about this organisation,” he said, deciding to ignore Barsky's comment. This was neither the time nor the place to discuss his father's life sentence in Azkaban.

Barsky shook his head. “I've told them enough. But thanks for the coffee.”

Having learned to negotiate with business partners to get the most of it for his company, Draco knew when patience was the better approach to what he wanted, despite the slowly growing urge to just push Barsky into the nearest wall for refusing to give him the desired information. He decided to change the tactic, maybe a little reminder would help. “Have you heard from your family?” he asked, watching the smile fade from Barsky's face while he shook his head.

“They are probably already dead,” Barsky whispered, still staring at Draco with wide eyes.

Draco realised he had hit the crack in Barsky's defence, something worth pushing further into. “I doubt that–”

“Drawing from your own experience?” Barsky retorted bitterly. “They aren't Death Eaters who keep people alive and prisoner to punish others. They just _dispose_ of traitors.”

With the Death Eaters mentioned, Draco was briefly reminded of the days he had been used as a pawn to keep his parents under control. That feeling of helplessness had been the one he took the longest to get over it, mostly with the help of Hermione. He took a deep breath to get out of the memory. “Is your son really innocent? He doesn't know what's really going on in the shop?” he asked, keeping his tone calm but interested.

Barsky shook his head once more. “My wife knew about my affiliation with _The Organisation_ , but we kept it from our son, knowing how dangerous they could be. He just worked in the shop to earn some money for a trip to Bulgaria before starting his apprenticeship.”

Draco emptied his cup of coffee, and put it on the floor while he watched Barsky playing with his empty cup. “Knowing Potter, I don't think you'll walk free for a long while because you helped to get his best friend kidnapped,” he said after a few more silent seconds, “but there might be a chance for your family to get out of this story alive.”

Barsky let out a bitter laugh. “You really don't understand how they treat traitors, do you? I'm a dead man; I'm not even safe in here.”

“I have my means, Mr Barsky.”

“Are you proposing a deal?” Barsky straightened up, glancing at Draco in a mixture of confusion and scepticism. “Or are you just playing with me?”

“I'm a businessman, I don't _play_ with people.” Draco straightened his back, noticing how uncomfortable and low this cot was to sit on. “But you have something I want, and I can offer something you need in return.”

“You're a fool. No one willingly works against them.”

“I survived having a madman in my home, Mr Barsky. I know what atrocities people are capable of.”

“That _madman_ has nothing on them,” Barsky replied, not hiding his cynicism any longer. “But I still want my family as safe as they can be,” he added with a sigh.

Draco could see the conflict run over Barsky's face; it seemed that he was more loyal to his family than the ominous organisation. “We seem to have a deal, then,” he said when Barsky's face settled on a stony, rather resigned expression.

Barsky nodded, and then leaned back with a sigh. “I've never met Ms Granger in person, she must have come to the shop when I had a week off to attend a wedding; they are always big affairs in my wife's family–”

“How does it work?” Draco cut him off sharply. “You get the information that your current customer is a half-Creature, and then?”

“We collect their status as well as their magical signatures; that's what I send forward, sometimes with the note that it might be an interesting Creature for the pits–”

“Pits?”

Barsky nodded. “All I honestly know is that they want them to fight to the death for the entertainment of the ugly rich—like you are. Seems that your friend knew too much about that and they wanted her out of the way.” He shrugged.

“She was investigating the disappearances, yes.” Draco frowned when the idea flitted through his mind that Hermione might already be dead; his heart cramped painfully for a second before he was able to shake the frightening idea out of his mind. No, if she was dead, they would have left her body in a place where she would have been found. And deep inside him, he knew that she was still alive. “Tell me more about the fight pits. How do you find them?”

“I'm surprised that you have to ask, Mr Malfoy. Your family is still one of the richest around.”

“We had other interests. Now, tell me, how do you find them?”

“They are invitation only. Another member has to recommend you, but they might make an exception in your case, knowing your net worth.” Barsky sat up, raking through his hair to keep it out of his face. “A bit of paper and a quill, and I'll write down who you can contact to get in. I rather not mention the name out loud in fear that others might listen and decide I said too much.”

Still in possession of his wand, Draco transfigured a wrapper he found in his coat pocket into a small piece of parchment, then handed it together with his fountain pen to Barsky who immediately started to scribble down a name and what looked like additional information.

“One small piece of advice, Mr Malfoy, be careful. Be very careful. They will stop at nothing if you get in their way. You might end up losing more than you are prepared to give.”

“Been there–”

“Not like that.” Shaking his head, Barksy handed the note and the pen back to Draco. “But I do hope you succeed in your mission. And do tell my wife that I love her, that I only ever wanted the best for my family.”

“Why did you join them in the first place?”

Barsky shrugged. “I was in a bad situation and they promised a way out. However, once you join them, there's no way out, except death. I try to do what they ask of me, but I try to keep my son out of it.”

“Honourable,” Draco said, stretching his legs; the cot was at a very uncomfortable height for him to sit, so his legs were slightly cramping. But he had an idea where he could bring Barsky's family—as a member of the Malfoy family, he had a list of buildings at his disposal; the location of some only known to him as the acting Head of the family. As he was already preparing one of them for the moment they find Hermione, it shouldn't be too much off an additional effort to have another prepared. After all, his house elves weren't of the asking kind.

“Thanks,” Barsky said, half whispering to himself when Draco knocked three times on the cell door to be let out again; he lay back down on his cot to simply wait for his executioner as it seemed.

.xx.

When Draco came back up to the Auror Department, he was surprised to find that Harry was already back from his raid; he was taking out his rage verbally on any Auror who dared to be in his vicinity. “What happened?” Draco asked.

“It was an empty factory hall, that's what happened!” Harry shot at him, looking as if he was going to hex him any second. “Barsky gave us the wrong information–”

“Potter!” Draco made a step towards the still seething Head Auror. “He didn't give you the wrong information, he's not manipulative enough.”

“Oh, I forgot you're an expert in that field.”

“Careful now.” They were now facing each other, though Draco once more used his height advantage on Potter. The Head Auror still had nothing on Astoria, who was one hell of a terrifying witch if enraged.

“Harry!” Both men turned around to see Ginny stand in the entrance to the main room, dressed in figure-hugging blue jumpsuit; she had her hands stemmed into her hips, clearly glaring at her husband. “Here you are!” With loud steps, she came closer. “Why are you trying to have a shouting contest with Malfoy? What's he even doing here?”

“Long time no see, _Mrs Potter_ ,” Draco greeted her with a brief smirk. “I help out.”

Ginny's expression softened momentarily towards him. “I'm sorry, Draco. Long time no see, indeed. But my husband here has forgotten that we were invited to a dinner with my parents, and he agreed to show up.”

“I'm sorry I forgot,” Harry finally said, taking a deep breath to come down from his bout of temper, but ducking slightly from Ginny's disapproving glare. “But we thought we had a good lead on Hermione's whereabouts–”

“And you couldn't let me know?” she retorted with a sigh. “I know you do everything to find her again, she's the best friend of all of us, and we all hope that she comes back alive and mostly uninjured, sweetheart. I know how important this is for you, okay? But just for one evening, put your family first. You have enough Aurors who could take over for one evening...”

Harry motioned in for an embrace with his wife. “I'm really sorry,” he said with an appeasing tone, even pressing a gentle kiss on her cheek.

She let out another heavy sigh, but then returned the embrace. “It's okay for this time, it's Hermione after all. We all miss her, especially the children. I just wish you had let me know; you know how Mum can be some days.”

Ginny was still the same force of nature Draco remembered—strong-headed, but with a big heart. These days, she wrote for the sports section in the Daily Prophet, with a regular column on events in the Quidditch league. The most refreshing read in the paper whenever he came across it. “Do you mind if I have a short talk with Harry before you leave?” he asked after waiting for a few more seconds in silence. “Won't take long, I promise.”

Ginny glanced at him, then nodded before slowly letting go of Harry. “The faster you finish, the faster we can leave.”

“What do you want to talk about, Malfoy?” Harry asked after breaking up the embrace with Ginny, pushing his glasses back up.

“Not here, Potter. Don't take it personally, but I don't really trust your people at the moment,” Draco replied, nodding towards Harry's office; he earned himself a load of muttered swear words and few louder protests from the present Aurors with his remark. Only Theo a few desks away smirked, knowing what he had been hinting at. “Ginny, it was a pleasure seeing you again. Say hello to the rest from me.”

She nodded, a soft smile on her lips. “I will.”

“You heard my wife, the faster we finish this, the faster I can start making amends to her,” Harry said grumbling while leading the few steps to his office. “And it better be good what you want to discuss.”

“Oh, you're going to love it.”


	10. A Favourite of the Patrons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Trigger Warning:** Assault—mostly implied, but with a few slightly more explicit moments...  
>  This chapter doesn't contain a fight scene, but it isn't less intense. If mentions of assault triggers you, it might be better to skip this chapter, you will still be able to follow the story without it.
> 
> Besides that, I have a few people to thank for helping out to get this chapter written: Most of all Laura for beta reading and making me check everything again. Another big heartfelt thank you to a very old friend of mine who helped me with the foreign language parts, Lilian (known to me as Akasha in the AtS fandom). And last, but not least, many, many thanks to everyone listening to my doubts and ramblings, but especially amyeco and Kir.
> 
> The words in the foreign language should be understandable from context, but I will add a note at the end with the direct translations for anyone still having problems understanding them.
> 
> Now, enjoy! And please do leave a comment if you liked it! :-)  
> (I promise, you literally make my day with a comment! I do treasure them, even if I don't respond to every single one...)

“Harpy, you come with us. Boss wants to see you.”

Hermione was lying on her mattress, practising some of the meditation techniques she had once learned during her trip through South America. It helped to pass the time between the meals as the guards wouldn't bring her anything to read, but it also helped with her mental control over her Creature. She hated being addressed by her Creature form instead of her given name, but the guards didn't seem to care about it at all, so she simply turned her head towards the cell door, glaring at the brute of a guard standing there.

“Get up! Didn't you hear me?”

She finally propped herself up into a sitting position, wincing slightly when a sharp stabbing pain ran through her still wounded thigh. It had been only a week since she had been injured in her fight against the werewolf, and she had had to use the abilities of her Creature more than once to speed up the healing process. It still hurt, and a scar would most probably remain. “What does he want?” she finally said, gritting her teeth in pain.

“You'll know soon enough.”

Gritting her teeth even harder, Hermione made it to her feet, only to limp out of her cell behind the guard, immediately framed by another guard behind her as soon as she stepped out. Escaping in this moment wasn't an option, though she had played through it in her mind. However, she didn't look forward to meeting the boss of this hellish place.

“Faster, bird,” the guard behind her said, poking her with his stick.

“I have a limp,” she retorted without bothering to turn her head. She was already walking as fast as she could on her bad leg, “If you want to go faster, you'll have to carry me.” She saw the guard in front turn around for a quick glance to the one at the back and then shrug, only to slow down a step so that she could keep up with him.

“Up there,” the front guard said later, after wandering through the small labyrinth of cells, pointing at stairs leading up to what looked like an office door at the other end.

Sighing, Hermione braced herself for another round of pain while climbing the stairs, but was instead surprised when the front guard hoisted her on his shoulders. She yelped in surprise, about to protest the rather rough handling, but realised it was pointless.

“Boss?” the guard asked when he entered the office, with Hermione still on his shoulder, “This is the bird I told you about.”

Roughly put back down on her feet, she gritted her teeth to keep herself from gasping, as another stab of pain shot through her leg. She wouldn't be surprised if the wound opened again after all that. After another second, and shifting her position slightly, the pain lessened to a mere low sting, and she was able to ignore it. Focusing on her surroundings, she noticed she was standing in front of a large, ornate mahogany desk, one that even Draco might have found obscenely overdone. The rest of the room was similarly decorated, though much more refined.

“She's the Harpy?”

“Yes, boss,” the front guard replied.

“Thanks. Now leave.”

Hermione finally had a proper look at the other man who had been sitting at the desk until now, going through what looked like some sort of list. She guessed that it probably was the list of fights for the day; to her relief, she couldn't spot her fight name on it, at least not from where she was standing. As he got to his feet, a fake smile on his lips, she was instantly reminded of the Mafia films she had seen in her life—he wore a casual, but expensive Italian suit, surely bespoke; he had dark hair, olive skin, yet his eyes didn't quite fit with the Southern European type as they were strikingly blue, darting all over her frame. It made her feel uncomfortable.

“With only two fights behind you, you have become quite a favourite with my patrons,” he said, making a step from around the desk. “I've rarely had higher bets on any of my fighters. But everyone loves your blood thirst.”

Hermione crossed her arms defiantly, not yet intimidated by his act. It reminded her of a younger Draco, who had sometimes acted just as overconfident and cocky as this man was now. “I hate killing,” she replied, not letting him out of sight while he kept wandering in front of her, an amused smirk on his lips.

“You're good at it,” he finally said, leaning against the front of the desk. He revealed a ring shaped like an oddly shaped animal when he placed it on the edge; the form faintly reminded her of a ferret. “However, I was informed that you keep making trouble, despite our hospitality–”

“Hospitality? You keep us as prisoners!” she retorted, barely avoiding a sneer. “You have no idea who I am, or who my friends are–”

“I know that you are a filthy Creature, that's all I need to know. _Most_ _maradj_ _csöndben_!”

“I am a _human,_ and a witch!”

He shot up, immediately reaching for her throat.

“I said, _keep quiet_!” The confident tone from moments ago had changed into a threatening command, “You are none of that! You are nothing but an expendable Creature! All you're here for is to eventually die in the  pit after you have made us a lot of money.”

“I am not a Creature,” she gurgled, trying to get his hand off her throat, but he only pulled at her hair in response. She could feel her Harpy struggle to get to the surface to fight back, but she wouldn't let it.

“You are a very obstinate one,” he retorted, pulling harder at her hair, but then suddenly let go, even took a step back. “My guards tell me that you barely follow orders, that you talk back, and, above all else, practise spells in your cell, despite the rule of no magic–”

“I asked for books to pass the time,” Hermione replied, still taking deep breaths and rubbing her neck; she was sure that she would get a bruise later from his hand. She didn't like the glint in his eyes, it reminded her too much of the Death Eaters she had fought all those years ago—it was the same expression of superiority, the same subtly hidden obsession with violence. It made her shiver.

“ _Ti állatoknak_ _nem_ _dolgotok_ _olvasni_ _;_ _rossz_ _ötleteknek ad_ _nektek_ _–_ ”

“What?” Hermione asked, surprised to hear him mutter in a foreign language, his voice filled with derision. To her ears, it sounded a lot like the words the little shopkeeper around the corner from her place spoke. Was she in a different country? Somewhere in Eastern Europe? Or was she still in Britain? She really hoped for the latter.

“ _You Creatures aren't supposed to read, it gives you bad ideas_. Besides, you're not the one to make demands here, Harpy.” He sneered, closing the gap between them once more, a dark glint in his eyes. “You're here to entertain my patrons, and make us money until you eventually die in the pit! Is that understood?”

“I'm not a slave!”

“You are less than that! You're _nothing_!”

Hermione took a step back when he reached for her, but soon hit a shelf with her back. She tried to keep herself from shivering, even counted down from twenty, when he let his fingers follow her jaw down to her neck, which was still hurting from his earlier choking.

“A very pretty _nothing_ , though...” His fingers wandered down her cleavage. “Very pretty, indeed.”

She held her breath, trying to ignore the touch of his fingers. As smooth as he otherwise looked, his hands were rough against her skin, and wandering too low now. She was torn between kicking him in the groin to get him off her, and pleading him to stop. However, she would never surrender herself to such a person by pleading. Never. So, instead, she bit her lip, trying to keep calm.

“Maybe you just need some breaking in,” he said, with an undertone of desire in his voice. “I'm sure you would provide some great pleasure.”

Now Hermione freaked out internally for a second. “Oh God,” she murmured before she collected herself again. Swallowing hard, she tried to discreetly remove his hand from the low position on her hip. Not even during her captivity in the hands of the Death Eaters during the Second War had anyone ever threatened her like he just had. Her pulse was racing now, and all she could think of was getting away. Trembling, she shook her head in defiance. “No, no, no... I'm not–”

“Oh, but you are,” he stopped her, and inched closer, pinning her to the shelf, his hand still on her hip, squeezing her.

“No!” She gasped loudly, and immediately tried to get his hand off her hip, but he only repeated the move. “Get off me!”

He only smirked in response, but did let go of her. “Remember, you're here for entertainment—my patrons' as well as _mine_. And if I like something, I take it.”

“No, no, no!” She shook her head, her eyes wide in fear. “Don't you dare touching me!”

“ _Az enyém_ _vagy_. Mine.” He grabbed her  hand, and pinned it over her head, his face now only inches from hers. “And I like what I see.” His eyes darted all over her face, lingering on her lips for a moment longer. “Oh, what a pleasure it will be to break you.”

Now truly terrified he might attempt it right now, Hermione placed her free hand on his chest, concentrating on the touch. _Impedimenta!_ She repeated the word over and over in her mind, having practised it quietly in her cell with her mattress as a  target. When she tapped into her Harpy's strength, the spell finally did what it was supposed to do—push him into the wall on the other side of the room. “Don't touch me,” she repeated angrily, shaking, even tempted for a split-second to let her Creature take over; she knew it was close to the surface as she could feel a tingle in her fingers and feet. Keeping an eye on him while he slowly got back to his feet, she took several deep breaths to regain full control over her body.

“No magic, you filthy... _Állat_!” Back up on his feet, and fully enraged now, he pulled his wand from to cast their Punishment Curse on her. “Don't you get that?”

The spell took her by surprise, choking her. Like every time, it felt like electricity was running through her body, tensing her muscles to the point of being unable to move at all while setting her brain on fire. “I'm... a... witch!” she panted when it finally stopped and she was able to breathe again. “And... I'm a _human_ being!” In response to her defiant answer, she was hit with another, albeit less intense Curse, making her cry out in pain this time.

Satisfied, and a smug grin on his face, he let go of her seconds later, and stowed his wand away in his suit. “I guess that's enough for a first taste,” he said, approaching her once more. “This will be fun.”

“Others have tried before to _break me_ ,” she replied, croaking, “and they failed.”

“Oh, I like challenges. Maybe I should let you fight against your cell neighbour, as you seem so fond of each other.”

She only shook her head, glaring at him. Not her neighbour! He was the one remotely good thing in this hell of a place, helping her to stay sane.

“Don't worry, your next fight is already set up, so you get to enjoy his company a little longer.” He pushed a strand of hair out of her face in a surprisingly tender touch. “Behave, and you have nothing to fear. Nor does your neighbour.”

“I survived worse,” she said, a shiver running down her spine from the touch. After the threats and the Punishment Curse, this was the one thing that finally freaked her out.

He smiled at her one last time before letting go of her. “Guards! I'm finished!”

* * *

 

“Thank God, you made it through!”

Hermione groaned when she tried to move her body. It felt strained and shattered in so many places, she couldn't even say if there was any spot that hadn't been hit in her last fight. The last thing she remembered was driving her talons through her opponent's chest and right into his heart after defeating him. They had set her up against a vampire, and it had been a short, but exceptionally tough fight. Taking a deep breath, she carefully checked her neck, and winced when she brushed over what felt like a bite mark. Bitten by a vampire. If it wasn't too painful right now, she would have laughed out loud at that thought.

“Are you okay?” her neighbour asked, sounding concerned, and groaned from an attempt to move. “I heard you were up against that vampire, the _fight of the evening_.”

“Yes,” she finally said, though it was more like a croak. “I'm still alive.” She propped herself up, wincing at the protest of her muscles at that unnecessary moving, but to her relief, she saw the pot with the Healing Potion on the table across her cell. This time, she couldn't be bothered with getting up and walk over; she was glad she could move at all. So, instead, she tried to Summon the pot to where she was sitting, with her back against the wall. She was relieved when the pot with the Healing Potion did move towards her. “He almost had me at one point, but I was faster.”

“How did you... _win_? It wasn't a long—FUCK!”

Hermione looked at the wall separating them when she heard him let out a small cry of pain. “Are you okay?” Listening for other signs, she started to spread the Healing Potion on her injuries, gasping when it stung for a second before finally working its magic on her skin. “Hey, are you okay?” she repeated her question when he hadn't said a word.

“I... No.” Another wince from her neighbour's cell. “I never thought that breaking a rib would be that painful. And unlike you, I don't have even the most limited healing powers.”

“I'm sorry. I wish I could help.” She gritted her teeth when she tried to lift her legs to apply the Healing Potion there, but the effects were worth the momentary pain. However, she was genuinely concerned about her neighbour and his broken rib; it definitely needed further attending to. With a faint smile, she remembered how she had ended up with a broken rib once after what was supposed to be a simple stakeout. Harry had ushered her to St. Mungo's for treatment, muttering something about standard procedure, though he knew full well that he risked exposing her other condition like this. But then, she sneezed while waiting to be called, and she thought she was going to die. “The only advice I can give is not to move too much. I'm sorry.”

“It's okay. I've had worse. It just didn't have to be an animagus able to turn into one of those vicious Wampus cats, wherever they had found him...”

Hermione was still leaning back against the wall, relishing in the soothing feeling of the Healing Potion on her skin, when she noticed a figure stopping in front of her cell. Her heart jumped when she recognised him in his fine Italian suit, but she didn't move at all.

“What a fight, Harpy. Yet, I still feel disappointed, I expected more from you than a fast killing.”

She acknowledged his presence with a slight move of her head towards him. “I did what was required. I killed him.”

“My patrons want entertainment, a good fight–”

“You require me to kill, so I did.” Huffing, she leaned forward, her eyes narrowed at her unwelcomed visitor. “I've seen enough death to last others several lifetimes. Killing others isn't entertainment, it's cruelty.” Not backing down from her glare, she noticed that his face was inscrutable, despite the smile he displayed: she figured that he didn't like her talking back.

“Remember my words. Behave, and nothing will happen to you,” he finally said. “People especially came to see you tonight, you should have given them what they wanted—a spectacular fight.”

She shrugged in response, wary of him. The glint of desire in his eyes sent a shiver down her spine when they darted all over her—the desire to possess her, to make her submissive to him.

“Remember, little bird.” With that, he finally turned around to walk off in direction of his office.

“What did he mean?” the neighbour asked, having overheard the whole conversation, of course.

Hermione sighed, and leaned back once more, closing her eyes when her head touched the wall. “Remember that he called for me yesterday? He threatened to _break me_ if continue to misbehave.”

“You know... fuck... you know who he is?”

“No,” she said in a whisper, feeling the weight of everything she just been through finally crush down on her.

“In my community, they tell stories about people like him to scare the children into behaving. Like, _behave or The Snatchers will take you_... Yes, we call them Snatchers.”

“What about him?” she asked, worried when she heard a sharp intake of breath from his side in response; he was probably trying to move.

“He's called The Hungarian,” he finally replied, sounding strained. “Ruthless, obsessed with power and violence.”

“The Hungarian?” she asked. Yes, that would fit with his bursts of foreign sounding phrases.

“Yes. No one knows his real name...”

“He isn't running everything on his own, is he?” she asked, trying to fight off the sinking feeling of hopelessness.

“No, he isn't.” He sighed. “What I know is that he works for an underground organisation...”

Yes, that was what she had feared. She wasn't simply in the hands of some madman, but instead had got snatched by a criminal underground organisation. She slowly hammered the back of her head against the wall, ignoring the angry tears running down her cheeks. Gods, she was at the mercy of a ruthless criminal with no way out. How much more could she take?

“Hey, softie, don't cry.”

“I'm not.” She defiantly wiped the tears from her cheek, though she couldn't stop a sob from escaping. Feeling lost, she pulled her legs up until she could wrap her arms around them. “I'm not crying.”

All she wanted was this to be over already, that she was finally killed in the pit, or—as she still foolishly hoped—that her friends finally came for her. Everything was better than this hell. Even death. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Most maradj csöndben!_ = Now keep quiet! (Literally: Now [you] stay silent!)
> 
>  _Ti állatoknak nem dolgotok olvasni; rossz ötleteknek ad nektek_ = You Creatures aren't supposed to read, it gives you bad ideas. (My friend pointed out that állat translates to “Creature”, but also has the connotation of "wild animal", derisive and disrespecting.)
> 
>  _Az enyém vagy_ = You're mine.


	11. Where do we have to sign?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still amazed that you people keep reading this story! It makes me look forward to each update, but also a little anxious to keep it up... :-*
> 
> Last, but not least, many, many thanks to Gemini Sister who jumped in as a beta for this chapter after my previous decided to pull out.  
> (Laura, still thanks for all the help you provided!)
> 
> And, of course, many thanks as well to those listening to my doubts and ramblings, but especially _amyeco_ and _Kir_. =)
> 
> Now, enjoy! =D

That Friday morning, Draco was waiting for his friends to arrive at the company, as he had called them in early for an impromptu meeting. None of them had sounded particularly happy, with Astoria being exceptionally cold in her response, still not over their fight they had had the day before. However, that fight, as well as the visit he had paid to Barsky, had made him come to a decision; he had thus spent the most part of the night working on the details of his plan.

Daphne was the first to arrive. She yawned when she entered the meeting room where Draco was going through his notes once more. “'Morning, boss.”

“Morning, Daphne. Coffee?”

She raised her eyebrow in response. “That's the least you could do for scheduling this meeting this early.” She smiled softly when he indeed got up to pour her a cup of coffee from the small side table. “Did you sleep at all? You look pale.”

“You should know me by now,” he replied when he placed the cup in front of her, the exact amount of milk and a single measured teaspoon of sugar added already.

“Yes, I remember you telling me about it,” she replied. “As much as I disagree with my sister, she's right when she says it's not good for your health. You shouldn't forego your sleep–”

“I'll sleep when we have found her.”

She nodded, and then carefully lifted the cup of coffee to her lips for  her first sip. “So, what's this meeting about?  _Her_ ?”

“Don't tell me that is true!” Pansy entered the meeting room, sighing loudly. A cup of coffee was already floating towards her seat where she was about to sit down. “Thanks, but that isn't enough amends for making me see my boyfriend even less!”

“Ron was over?” Daphne asked in surprise, drinking more of her coffee.

Pansy nodded, throwing a glare in Draco's direction, who just shrugged in response. “Late. Mumbled something about a blasted raid and being too tired for anything. I was looking forward to some morning sex, but instead, I sit here.”

“It was Potter's decision to raid that factory hall, not mine,” Draco said, ruffling the papers in front of his chair. Pansy's tendency to over-dramatise everything never failed to amuse him, but he was sure that once they had found Hermione, Weasley was going to make it up to her. She wasn't an easy person to live with, but she loved Weasley to bits; she just liked to moan about a bit.

The atmosphere tensed in the room when the Zabinis arrived as well; Astoria threw Draco a lethal glare for making her come in early after their fight, she remained defiantly silent otherwise.

“What's this all about?” Blaise asked, walking straight towards the side table to pour himself and his wife a coffee. He sounded wary, as though he was already suspecting the outcome. “I came home late to a still livid wife.” He approached Draco who was leaning on the back of his chair with his arms. “I warned you. If I or my wife think you unfit to lead the company–”

“Blaise, I know,” Draco said, straightening up to be on the same level as is friend and second-in-command. “Just sit down and I will explain everything.”

Blaise shot him another wary look before he joined his wife at the table. “You've got some nerve, mate,” he said, shaking his head, before taking the first sip of his coffee.

Ignoring Blaise's remark, Draco eyed his friends once more before he'd get started. They all looked tired and rather wary of the reason why he had asked them to come in this early, but he had been adamant about it. What he was about to tell them boiled down to their loyalty to him—a loyalty he  had never truly before had to put to the test. “Thank you for coming, even if only to glare at me,” he finally started. “I know I've been difficult to work with over the past month–”

“Have you ever not been _difficult to work with_?” Pansy said with a tired, but  still mischievous smirk, shooting Astoria a glance who was about to say something similar, but with far more spite.

Draco only raised his eyebrow in response. “It doesn't mean that I don't appreciate your skills and your contribution to this company. Far from it. This company does owe a lot of its success to you–”

“Come to the point,” Astoria said, demonstratively sighing deeply.

For a moment, Draco considered reacting to her remark, but it wasn't the time to be petty. Instead, he reached for his wand to distribute a set of papers to each of his friends. “I've asked you to come here in order to inform you that I plan to step down from my position as President of this company, at least for the time being.”

“Mental,” Astoria said under her breath, but still loud enough that everyone could hear her while going through the details on the papers in front of her. “Absolutely mental.”

“Apart from the fact that I share Astoria's view, this paper contains some solid work,” Pansy said while giving her set of papers a first glance. Her eyebrow was raised as it always did when she was reading a file for her cases. “It's just... why?”

“You don't get it, do you?” Daphne said, sounding defensive on Draco's behalf; it actually made him chuckle lightly. “He's trying to protect the company, protect us.”

“She's right. What I'm about to head into could severely damage the reputation of the company–”

Astoria and Blaise both groaned. “Draco, this is insane,” she said. “This is you obsessing all over again, just because you saw the slightest chance of getting her back–”

“Astoria, I want answers,” Draco interrupted her, a surprisingly harsh tone to his voice. “I told you yesterday that I'm not going to stop now, we have a lead what might have happened to Hermione. Pansy might know the odd thing too about it.”

“Hey, leave me out of it. You still owe me a morning off!” Pansy rebuffed. “But yes, they have a lead,” she added more softly. “Ron said something about Draco being their best shot before he fell asleep.”

“So,” Blaise finally said, after having listened to the discussion and going through the papers in front of him. “You just did what I was about to do today after finding my wife fuming as soon as I mentioned your name? Draco, truly, this is insane what I think you're planning to do.”

“What I'm trying to do is protecting you all. From what I know now, I'm probably going to ruffle some seriously dangerous feathers.” Draco lifted his hand when Blaise wanted to say something. “No. I told Astoria yesterday that I know what I'm doing. I know the risks, or else I wouldn't take them. Stepping down temporarily—or so I hope—as President of this company is my way to keep the damage as small as possible. All I'm asking of you all is to keep the business running. I trust you all to work to the best of your abilities.”

“Business as usual then,” Pansy said, glancing over to Astoria and Blaise in expectation of a response.

“No,” Astoria said, shaking her head in utter disbelief. “You're taking the easy way out, Draco.”

He actually expected her reaction to  be as defiant as this. “Wouldn't you do the same for Blaise? Try everything to save him?” he asked, challenging her.

“I... I... I don't know,” she said, leaning back with a small sigh.

“Oh, that's encouraging, my love,” Blaise commented.

“Oh come on, this is a different situation. I know you wouldn't do something so stupid to put yourself in danger. You like your comfortable life far too much, my dear.” Astoria smiled apologetically. “Draco and Hermione broke up eight years ago. And he _keeps_ running after her.”

“She broke up _with me_ , Astoria. Get your facts right.”

“For Merlin's sake, stop bickering!” Daphne let out a frustrated sigh. “Sister, I seriously wish you never have your heart broken like he had. I can understand his reasons, and I fully stand behind him. If he finds closure this way, then, for fuck's sake, let him do it! It's not as if you could persuade him otherwise, anyway.” She sat up, shooting her sister an annoyed glare. “Be glad that he trusts you enough to keep the company running, that he wants to protect us.”

Pansy nodded. “It's not as if we can stop him; this is Draco we're talking about. I know enough about the investigations to understand how important this is. This paper is solid paperwork as I said in the beginning. We get the control over the whole company for the time being, with Blaise as acting President—which he acts as most of the time already—and with Draco as a  silent partner, providing capital. I don't fully agree with everything, but he knows what he's doing. Or he wouldn't have set up something like this...” She held the papers up to emphasise her words. “Seriously, you all know how much he hates giving up control... And that's exactly what he is doing here. He is handing over  _everything_ .”

Pansy's support felt like a relief to Draco. He hadn't thought that she would understand the situation, or rather his reasons, but it seemed that she knew him well enough. “Pansy is correct.”

“All right,” Astoria said in resignation. “Do it. Destroy yourself.” She leaned forward, raising her hand. “All for her, that little heartless–OUCH!”

“Astoria, please. We all know she fell from your grace,” Daphne said with an annoyed tone to her voice. “You don't need to add more insult to injury,” she added, demonstratively putting her wand back into the pocket inside her jacket sleeve.

Draco eyed Daphne for a moment, surprised by her severe response to her sister's words. “I get that you don't like her,” he then said, turning his attention back to Astoria.

“ _Don't like her_ is putting it mildly,” Astoria muttered. “Where do we have to sign?”

* * *

 

“I see the sacrifice of my weekly owl to your mother worked.”

Draco ignored the comment from his father as he waited for the older man to be seated and then secured at the table in the visitor's room at Azkaban. His father was serving life in Azkaban, yet he always knew what was going on in the world outside; however, he anticipated that this time, his mother had informed his father about the current situation. Yet another person to try and talk some sense into him—he was tired of having to defend himself constantly. “Nice to see you too, Father.”

Lucius  gave a brief smile, indicating that he had recognised the polite lie. “You could visit more often, not just on my birthday and Christmas–”

“I have a lot of work with the company,” Draco replied impatiently. He didn't like coming here, as the place still so hauntingly reminded him of how barely he escaped a life sentence inside himself. Even with the Dementors gone, the place was still depressing and managed to drain every happy thought from his mind.

Lucius nodded, seemingly accepting the evasive reply. “I've read about your successes in the library, though I wish the newspaper section was kept more up to date. And pages are often missing.”

“I'm not here to listen to your complaints about missing pages, am I?” Draco said, interrupting the meaningless banter of his father. “Besides, you can count yourself lucky to be placed in the lowest security level with access to the library–”

“I've also read about the disappearance of her. And then your mother wrote me this...” Lucius was only chained to the chair from his lower body down, so he was able to use his hands to pull out a letter from his prisoner robes to read from it. “ _I wish I didn't have to write this, but I fear for our son. Ever since Hermione has disappeared, he acts strangely. He's obsessed with finding her, Lucius. I tried to talk to him, but I don't know what else I can do to let him see reason..._ ”

Draco shifted uncomfortably in his chair when he heard his mother's words  read by his father . He knew she was genuinely worried about him and his well-being, like his mother always had. However, he didn't know how to respond to his father's letter, so he just stared down at his hands on the table, avoiding his father's gaze.

“Don't you have anything to say to this?” Lucius asked, waving the letter in front of his son.

“Nothing I haven't already said to my mother,” Draco replied, looking up with defiance. “I want answers, and this is a way to finally get them. Despite what everyone thinks, I'm not heading blindly into this, I know what I'm doing.”

“You're a fool! _Still_ blinded by your love for this woman.”

“This was the same woman you let have a necklace from the family vault when we visited you at our last Christmas together,” Draco retorted. “I know what the gesture meant. Don't act as if you didn't like her.”

“I've never said anything like that. But it's you now who acts irresponsibly.”

Irritated at his father's words, Draco leaned forward. “I am not,” he said through gritted teeth. “For the time being, I have stepped down as President, which gives Blaise full powers to act in my stead. As of today, I'm nothing more than a very silent partner in the company–”

“You have not–”

“I have, Father,” Draco replied with a harsh, impatient tone. “I know what I am doing. I'm not some stupid Gryffindor running blindly into things, I _do_ calculate the risks. I want answers, and I will get them.”

“You will only destroy yourself. Let the Aurors do their job–”

Draco snorted at that remark. “Really? They are incompetent fools... They lost three precious weeks before I was  _asked_ to  step in to help.” Tired of having his motives questioned by everyone, like his father now, he pushed his chair back to get up. “I'm finished.  If you dare to order me here once more about this matter, I'll  ensure that you will have  your library rights revoked for the next three months.”

“You can't do that.”

“Remember who vouched for your character? _She_ did. And who's acting head of  family? _I_ am. Perhaps you may be surprised to discover that it is within my power to request a change in your access rights.”

Lucius sighed  deeply and then nodded with understanding. “Just be sure about what you are getting into. You don't know what dragons you're going to tickle...”

“I do know what I am doing, Father...” Letting out a frustrated huff, Draco knocked on the door of the visitation cell to let the guard know he wanted out. He wasn't in the mood to even argue with his father about the situation, especially since he still had a few things left on his list that needed to be done before he could put his plans in motion, such as bring the Barsky family to the prepared safe house as soon as he was finished here.

* * *

 

Draco was strolling through Diagon Alley in the late afternoon, going through the events of the day in his mind. His friends  had all proven to be as loyal as he hoped them to be, yet it still left him with a slightly bitter taste in his mouth. Especially Astoria, who had left the building again as soon as the business of the transition of power had been  completed . The visit in Azkaban didn't help his mind either; it had felt too much like a bad déjà-vu back into his later childhood. At least the Barsky family had been more than grateful for his help, with the  now relieved wife briefly attempting to hug him. 

However, he still needed to get this mostly frustrating day out of his system, and a walk through Diagon Alley, as much as people still tended to annoy him with their stares, usually helped. Except for today. He couldn't prevent feeling tired of everything—his miserable loneliness, his friends and even his family questioning him and his motives, and even the plan he had worked out with Potter, where everything suddenly depended on him. For a moment, he wished that everything was over and they had her back already. He flexed his fingers when the memory of her hand in his ghosted over the skin of his palm at the thought of her.

"Draco!"

His first name being shouted through the throngs of wizarding folk had him perk up from his thoughts. No one ever shouted his first name when he was out. He briefly smiled when he saw a waving redhead come towards him.

"Hi, thanks for stopping," Ginny said. She looked slightly flushed as if she was in a hurry, but she showed the same soft smile she had when she had picked up her husband the evening before. "It was great to see you yesterday, even if we didn't really have the chance to talk. I'm sorry."

"It's okay. Even I remember how your mother can be..."

She  blushed and pushed her bag up. "How are you? And I'm not asking out of politeness."

"You never have." He sighed. "I guess I'm as fine as I can be in my  current situation."

She scrunched her face up at his answer. " _Fine_ . You should remember what my family thinks about that word."

He chuckled. He did remember that  _fine_ in the Weasley family usually meant that something wasn't as it should be, but you didn't want to talk about it. It was one of the many small things he had learned after they had taken him in as Hermione's boyfriend, a full member of the family. 

"Anyway, I'm heading to an interview with the new Chaser of the Wimborne Wasps for my column," she then said, pulling him once more out of his thoughts.

“The Wimborne Wasps?” he asked in surprise, a smirk pursing his lips. “My family has always supported them–”

“I haven't forgotten the arguments about which team was the best. You and Harry never agreed on anything Quidditch-related.” Her laughter was brief, but warm. “Anyway, you look like you could use some company. Want to join me? The interview is not going to take long, and I'm pretty sure they won't mind giving you some autographs. I for sure need to bring some home for my children. And we can catch up afterwards over a beer. It's my parents' turn to watch the children tonight,” she added with a wink.

“I'm already one of the main investors of the team, silently of course–”

“Of course. So, you want to come along?”

Draco let the options turn through his mind for a brief moment. After all, he was still surprised that she offered him to go along, but then realised that she was right—he could use some company tonight, at least of the decent, enjoyable sort. And even as an investor, he didn't often get the chance to meet his favourite team. “Why not?”

 

“So, you say you're _fine_ ,” Ginny started when they finally sat down to have that promised drink after the interview, tucking the autograph cards for her children away in her bag. “You don't look like it.”

“You're just as bad as Astoria,” he replied with a mock groan before taking the first sip of his beer. It had been a great idea to follow her to the interview; meeting his favourite Quidditch team had taken his mind off things for a surprisingly short hour. Some of the players turned out to be huge fans of his products, more than happy to have a picture taken with him. Maybe he should check with Daphne whether they could up the amount of money invested in the team for the upcoming season...

“Wait, wait... I remember she was with Zabini, right? A bit presumptuous and strong-willed?”

He nodded. “They're married now.”

“What about you? The papers still like to bring pictures with you as soon as you show yourself with a decent looking woman.”

“Ugh. I hate it. I'm not dating anyone. Can't. Won't.”

Sipping her beer, Ginny glanced at him; the way she narrowed her eyes ever so slightly showed that she had heard the melancholic tone  in his voice. “Not once since... you know?”

Draco shook his head. “She was the one.”

“You miss her. I get that.” She leaned towards him with a soft smile. “To be honest, I don't get why she broke up with you. You were so great together! We actually had a secret bet running in the family when you would propose to her–”

“Oh gods!” He let out a groan before taking a gulp from his beer to flush away the painful reminder.

“Yeah. I really don't know why she did it because now she's miserable a lot.”

“Miserable?”

She  nodded and took another sip. “She won't admit it, but I can see it. It's like she's missing an important part  of her life , but she distracts herself with her work. Some days, no one dares to mention your name because then we all can see that she is still hurt. Other days, when she's at our place for dinner, she keeps mentioning you in almost every other sentence. But she's great with the children; they all love her. A bit like the aunt who knows all the cool tricks. And she taught both Lily and James to read–”

“Lily? I remember James was about a year old when... you know.”

“Lily Sophia,” she replied with a nod. “She was born after... after Hermione came back from South America, and we let her choose the middle name as her godmother.”

“You know why she was in South America?” This was one of the questions Draco had because he still didn't understand where exactly she disappeared to and why. That he hadn't been able to find her had almost driven him insane the first year after the break-up.

Ginny shook her head. “No. The only person who knows  the full story is Harry, and he won't tell me. It's  like  a thing between them.” After a second or two in heavy silence, she leaned forward. “Harry told me a few things about what is going on in the department right now—if he's home at all. You know he's really scared they won't find her in time.”

“Yes, they are desperate,” Draco replied. He shared Potter's anguish because he, too, found the option of being too late too scary to think about.

“And as much as he rambles about you, he did tell me yesterday that he is glad you joined them, you know?”

“Sure you're not just telling me what you think I need to hear?”

Raising her eyebrow, she shook her head. “I might do that occasionally with my children, but you're old enough for the brutal truth.”

He chuckled at that, relaxing a bit into his side of the bench. “Thanks.” Ginny was still just as sarcastic as she used to be back then, not afraid to hand it straight back; he remembered that he had always valued that in her. That and her ability to explain Hermione's train of thought to him more than once...

“And please, don't lose hope. If anyone can find her, it's you... Whatever you have planned, I'm sure you can do it,” she said with an honest and encouraging smile before putting the beer bottle to her lips for another gulp. “It's probably pretty crazy, but you're not Harry who still just runs into everything head-on, so–”

“Yes!” he said with an amused smirk. “Thanks for understanding that!” For the first time today, Draco felt his frustration and dread disappear, replaced by a faint hope—something he could cling to in the coming days. “Another?” he asked, pointing at her beer, and smiled briefly when she nodded before hastily emptying her bottle.


	12. Interlude: Floating Pieces and Shattered Hearts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many, many thanks to Gemini Sister for proofreading this interlude! :-*
> 
> This is a flashback, providing a glimpse into how Draco and Hermione came to be where they are in the story... However, this isn't a normal chapter, but rather an interlude between chapters, meaning I will keep my bi-monthly schedule. :)
> 
> Enjoy! (And do leave a comment if you liked it!)

**8 years ago**

Whenever that thought crossed his mind, Draco couldn't help but smile and briefly play with the little box in his suit pocket. Hermione was the love of his life, as unlikely as it had been when they first met as children. Yet now, after six years, he was considering taking the next step—asking her to become his wife, his equal, sharing the rest of their lives together. Not too long ago, he had taken the Malfoy engagement ring out of the family vault, just to get used to the idea of proposing. However, every time he took the little box out of his suit pocket to look at the ring, he felt his heart race and his hands shake slightly; he just couldn't believe he was planning to forge a bond for life with this incredible woman. One of these days, he was going to pluck up enough courage and finally propose to her; until then, he would keep fingering the engagement ring.

That evening he got home late after a meeting with his Development Department to discuss new ideas. The longer the Head of Department droned on, the more he had been looking forward to finally getting back home to Hermione, his fingers constantly toying with the ring box in his suit pocket. She had promised to stay up late to wait for him as they left for work that morning, even though she had looked rather solemn and tired; so he was now expecting her to be sitting up in bed and read while struggling to stay awake just so he could he give her a good night kiss.

However, whatever he had anticipated upon arriving through the Floo, it wasn't what he discovered. The air felt slightly charged, and he could hear sobs coming from their bedroom. Something felt off. “Hermione?”

“Oh God, no,” he could hear her mutter before another sob swallowed the rest of her words.

He found her in their bedroom, shocked to see her frantically stuffing all her clothing and belongings into a trunk. She continued to sob as she completed her task, her eyes already red from crying. “Hermione? What's the matter?” he asked, stepping into the room.

“I... I thought your meeting would take longer,” she replied, taking a step back when he approached her as he reached out to grab her hand. “Please, no. It'll just make this harder.”

“What do you mean? Hermione, why are you packing all your belongings?” he asked, frowning. He took another step towards her, but winced when she again moved back, keeping out of his reach. This had to be a misunderstanding, a mistake! Here she was, obviously upset, and yet she wouldn't let him comfort her.

She wiped her eyes, and then continued to collect her clothing to hastily levitate them into the trunk; she was almost finished, but missed the trunk several times due to tears repeatedly blurring her vision.

Still confused, and starting to feel irritated, Draco picked the pieces of clothing up from the floor that had missed the trunk to return them back into their wardrobe. “Hermione, what's going on?” he repeated, now pulling her things out of her trunk, not accepting the terrifying idea slowly forming in the back of his mind

“Stop putting my things back, please,” she said, pleading. “It's already hard enough–”

“What is hard enough? Why are you doing this?”

Suppressing another sob, she grabbed the things he was holding. “I-I'm sorry. I really tried, but I... I just can't take it any longer.” She put everything she was holding in the trunk before turning around to leave the room to gather the rest located throughout the flat. However, she didn't even make it out of the bedroom as he held her back by grabbing her wrist.

“That's not true!” he burst out in angry disbelief. “You love me! You're lying!”

She shook her head, her reddened eyes wide. “I'm not,” she whispered. “I... I can't bear it any longer. Please, let go, Draco.”

“No.” Tightening his grip on her wrist, he pulled her closer. “Don't lie to me. Don't act as if the past six years were for nothing.”

“They weren't!” Hermione retorted, trying to take a step back, even though he immediately pulled her closer again in response. “I... I do love you, Draco. But–”

“Don't lie!” His words came out in a growl. “Don't you dare lie to me!” With his free hand, he pulled his wand from its pocket and pointed it at the trunk.

“No!” she screamed and pushed his wand hand down. “Please, no! I need to do this!”

“What? Breaking up with me and leave like a _coward_?” He still refused to believe that she was doing exactly this, that she was leaving him after six great years together. The thought alone was shattering his heart to pieces, devastating him. How in Merlin's seven hells could she do this to him?

“I need to do this; it's better for both of us... And please let go of me!” She finally managed to pry his fingers off her wrist, and immediately pulled away. “I just thought it would be easier to be gone before you came home,” she added with a crack in her voice.

“Easier?!" Draco didn't care whether he was shouting now; he simply couldn't believe what she was saying. This wasn't just a misunderstanding anymore, this was the nightmare he had always feared would come crashing down on him.

Shaking her head, she rubbed her eyes once more before turning away to walk through to the living room. “I wish I could explain–”

“Try.” He followed her closely, trying to get a hold of her hand to make her stop, but she kept pushing him off. “Hermione, I demand an explanation for your behaviour! We tell each other everything, why don't you now?”

Arriving in the living room, she turned around to face him once more. She was trying to keep herself from shaking too much, yet still pushed his offer of comfort away; despite being angry about the whole situation, he couldn't stand seeing her upset like this. Without responding further to his words, she started collecting her things in the living room to levitate them to the trunk in their bedroom.

Draco fished several levitating items from the stream before he was able to grab her wand hand to make her stop. “I'm not letting you go, not like this!” Keeping his grip on her wand hand, he placed the caught items on the nearest surface before he made a step towards her, closing the space between them. With his free hand, he brushed the tears away that were still running down her cheeks and leaned closer. “Don't do this to me, please,” he said in a whispered plea. “You'd destroy me, throwing everything we have away.”

“I-I'm not throw–”

Not wanting to hear another evasive reply, he stopped her with a deep kiss in a desperate attempt to convince her to stay. He poured everything he had into the kiss, how much she meant to him, how much he loved her, despite the painful stab in his heart. It dared to make a jump when he felt her respond by parting her lips, her hands framing his head, with her wand pressing against his temple. He got lost in the feel of her lips against his, not wanting it to stop, but then he tasted the salt of her tears, and he realised that she was kissing him goodbye. In that single moment, he could feel his whole world fall apart and his heart shatter into pieces, so he held on to her even more tightly, afraid that she would slip from his grasp if he stopped.

But eventually, Hermione broke off, sobbing freely. “I'm... I'm sorry,” she said between hiccups, slowly pulling away.

“Please, stay. You... You can't do this,” he said, his own voice cracking now. Having let go of her wand hand during their kiss, he now frantically tried to get hold of her again. He couldn't let her slip away! “I... I lo–”

“Shh...” She put a finger on his lips, shaking her head. “It's better this way.” With one well-directed wave of her wand, she let all her remaining belongings float up to the trunk in the bedroom, from where seconds later a loud thud was heard. After wiping her eyes, she walked back to the bedroom, Draco following closely.

“Stay, please. Whatever it is, we can find a way...”

Without saying a single word, she down-sized the trunk, then looked at him one last time with a sad smile on her lips. A single heartbeat later, she was gone.

Gone.

Gone from his life, taking everything with her.

Utterly devastated, Draco broke down. He was unable to breathe, feeling as if his heart had been ripped out of his chest in the most violent way he could imagine. After what felt like an eternity, he finally drew in a shaky breath, only to let out one long scream that matched his pain and anger.

The objects in his vicinity started to shake, even violently so, until he could no longer hold back, letting his magic burst out in one intense wave. This outburst of undirected, emotionally pent-up magic left the bedroom in complete chaos—the objects smashed to smithereens, littering the floor; the bed as well as other furnishings broken and threatening to crumble completely; even the window had shattered due to the impact of magic.

When able to breathe again, Draco attempted to get up, but it took him several tries until he made it back up on his shaky feet. He still felt as if he had been hit by a mountain troll, having lost everything he held dear in a single moment. He was broken, and he was furious. He wanted answers.

* * *

 

“Potter! Open the door!” Impatient in his hurt anger, Draco hammered loudly against the door of Harry's house, completely ignoring the late hour. “POTTER!”

“What?!” Irritated, Harry finally opened the door, only to be confronted with a fuming Draco, who burst inside.

“Where is she? Where's Hermione? I know you're hiding her!”

“What are you talking about?” Harry asked, closing the door again. “And please keep your voice down, people are asleep here!”

“She left!” Draco said with a growl in his voice. “She packed everything, and then just disappeared! Don't tell me you don't know where she is!”

Harry's eyes momentarily widened in shock. “Oh God, she did it,” he murmured. “Look, she's not here, and I can't tell you where she went. Are you sure you didn't just have another argument, and she overreacted?”

“No. We didn't. Where is she?”

“I don't know! Now, please leave before you wake up my son! You don't want to face my sleep-deprived wife.”

“I want to know where Hermione is,” Draco retorted, glaring down at Harry. “No one leaves me without a very good reason–”

“Hey, what is going on here?” Ginny came down the stairs, her wand in her hand. “Draco!”

“I'm sorry for disturbing your night, but I'm looking for Hermione. I'm sure your husband knows where she is.”

“She left him,” Harry explained.

"She did?" Ginny looked aghast, shocked even to hear the news. "Oh God! I'm sorry to hear that, Draco, I never thought it would happen..." She came up to the two men, her wand lowered. "I'm really sorry. I'm sure Harry would tell you if he knew–"

"Why did she do this?" Draco asked, not lowering his voice; he glared at Harry. "You know something–"

"Draco, be quiet, please! I just managed to put James to bed, and you know how difficult he is. You don't want to face me if you wake the whole house up!"

Draco clenched his jaw, but nodded. Being angry at Harry helped to ignore the pain lingering underneath; he feared he would have another breakdown if he let go of his anger, not sure he would be able to get up this time.

Ginny noticed the strain on Draco, the tightening of his jaw, and her face softened. "Let's have a hot chocolate in the kitchen, and we can talk. I'm sure it's not as bad as you think, and she will come back."

 _She never came back_.


	13. Code Word: White Ferret

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, many heartfelt thanks to _optimise_ , for being such a wonderful beta and lovely person! :-*  
> (and for her initial reaction to this chapter, it made me laugh)
> 
> This chapter contains an explicit scene of a sexual nature. I do understand that it can come off as a bit of a shocker, but I do hope that the resolution at the end is explanation for Draco's behaviour throughout the chapter.
> 
> I recommend skipping to the end if you prefer not reading about Draco getting seduced at the club.
> 
> However, I always intended to have him find out about Hermione's secret either like this or in a similar way...

_Mr Malfoy,_

_We have received your request._

_Your background has been  checked,  
and we can hereby confirm your acceptance into the exclusive audience of our entertainment clubs._

_Next event: Saturday_  
_Location: —Factory Hall_  
_Time: from 9pm_  
_Code word: White Ferret_

_Please make sure to attend this event to finalise your membership._

_There is only one rule: Do not talk about your membership to others. We will know._

 

Draco had been surprised how fast his request had been accepted when the note arrived early Saturday morning; he had only sent the note to the person Barsky had mentioned shortly after he had left the cell with the plan still forming in his head. He had sent it without Potter's permission as he just couldn't wait any longer in that moment. Yet, now he was hesitant, doubting his own plan, but he couldn't back down from it any longer; he had to go through with everything.

 

“And you are sure you want to go through with the plan?” Harry asked when he had read the note later, raising his eyebrow at the code word. He had come over as soon as he had read Draco's note. “After all, they were fast with accepting you.”

“Yes, I know. “ Draco took the note back, letting out a deep sigh. “Suspiciously fast. I remember a few stories my grandfather and father told me about secret societies—no details, mind you!—and it usually takes them weeks to accept new members, if at all.”

“They know.”

“You can be certain about that. But it would look suspicious if I backed out now–”

“You'd be walking into the lion's den without knowing what to expect,” Harry said, pushing his glasses back up. “We don't even know whether she's even there.”

“Potter, please,” Draco replied, slightly exasperated. “If I learned one thing from Hermione, it's not to back down from words I've given. I said I'll do this, and I'm sticking to it. Just please let me do it my way. I'll let you know when I'll need the cavalry.”

“Cavalry?”

“You Gryffindors do make good Aurors, but you still have the tendency to rush into everything head-on.”

“You mean to say we're missing the finesse of a Slytherin from a formerly noble house.”

Draco briefly sneered at Harry's remark. “Don't you have a family to go back to? I remember Ginny telling me about you taking James to a game...”

Harry sighed. “She's making me spend two hours at the Wasps game with my son... But yes, you're right. I should probably go back. I'll blame it on you if he turns into a Wasps fan.”

“At least one Potter has taste then,” Draco replied with a smirk before Harry left again through the Floo.

* * *

 

Shortly after nine that evening, Draco was in front of the factory hall, waiting nervously to be let inside, his hands fiddling with the invitation. He was unsure what to expect once inside, and he didn't like that. Ginny had been right to call it something crazy, but he had to do something, and following up on Barsky's information was as good as any other plan.

Then the entrance was finally opened by a stern looking man; Draco guessed that he was a door steward, making sure only the invited guests for the evening were allowed in. “You're punctual,” the steward said.

“Yes.” Draco waved the invitation in an impatient manner. Snobbish, he could do.

“Code word?”

“White ferret,” Draco replied with a hint of disdain in his voice. He still didn't like being reminded of that incident in his fourth year at Hogwarts.

“Please enter.” The steward further opened the door and then stepped aside, eyeing Draco closely as he passed him.

“Mr Malfoy, I presume?” the Head of the club greeted him upon entering with a polished smile, waving for someone else to join them. “Welcome to the club. Lilah will be your personal companion tonight, as is custom for new members.”

Draco only now saw who had joined them, a beautiful woman with a practised smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. He had a moment to assess his companion for tonight while the Head of the club was probably giving her instructions in hushed tones. Her whole appearance reminded him of a Veela; she was not as fair as one, yet she was just as magnetic. She was tall for a woman, probably on level with him, but his eyes were mostly glued to her figure that was subtly emphasised by her dark green dress.

“Mr Malfoy,” Lilah said with another polished smile while approaching him, pulling him out of his trance. “It's an honour to be at your service tonight. Your wish is my command...”

“It will surely be a pleasure to have your company,” Draco replied politely, noticing how the Head of the club had already started to disappear into the background once more. He offered his arm for her to hook in; only then he noticed that her hands were covered in black, long, silky gloves.

“I do like a gentleman with manners,” she said as she hooked her arm through his and lead him inside the main hall of the club.

“I do like the company,” Draco replied, nodding briefly while taking in everything he could see in the main hall. It looked like it was enhanced with magic to fit everything into the factory hall. It had the atmosphere of a higher-class gambling room without the stuffiness that usually came with it. On each side, there were two bars, all of them staffed with female barkeepers, who were entertaining a host of enticed male patrons. But the main attraction was the railed pit in the middle of the hall—the fight pit Barsky had mentioned. He could hear cheering from the audience, due to a fight going on right now.

“It's the first fight of the evening, the main fight will be announced later,” Lilah explained and then pointed towards one of the bars, where one of the female barkeepers caught her gesture and winked back suggestively.

“What's the main fight?” he asked, his eyes still glued to the audience around the pit. He thought he recognised a few faces—either very old and rather former friends of his family or business partners. He made a mental note to write down the names of the people he had recognised before the touch of her still gloved fingers on his arms brought his attention back to her.

“They will announce it only shortly before it starts, keeps the suspense,” she replied, sliding her fingers up to his elbow. “Drink? I'm guessing you're the purist type, preferring an exclusive brand Firewhisky. Ogden's is one thing, but we have something better.”

“Only the best for a Malfoy,” he said, a cocky smile on his lips. From what he could hear going on at the pit, Draco figured that a drink might be a good idea before he would have look. Besides that, he could feel a warmth spreading slowly through his arm from where her fingers were still resting, giving a very relaxing feeling.

“Working tonight?” the barkeeper asked when they approached her bar, her eyebrow raised slightly while checking out Draco.

“Just introducing a new member, Marla,” Lilah replied and hooked in more tightly around his arm, leaning closer in the process. “A real gentleman.”

“What can I prepare for you, sir?” Marla asked Draco, an almost amused smile on her lips.

Draco simply nodded, briefly distracted by Lilah leaning in, her hips brushing his and sending a short electrifying wave through his body.

“A glass of your special Firewhisky for the gentleman, Marla dear,” Lilah said, amused about his momentary absence.

“And you take the usual?” Marla asked with a brief side-glance towards him and then nodded once when Lilah shook her head. “Having a Martini night, then?”

“Yes.”

“Martini night?” Draco asked, returning to the conversation with a smile as Marla placed a tumbler with a perfect amber liquid in front of him.

“Martini nights are good nights at work,” Lilah answered, leaning further into him. “I'd say you're even worth a double Martini.”

“To double Martinis,” Draco said in response and raised his glass for a toast. The Firewhisky was as smooth as it was amber, with only a hint of afterburn in the throat; Marla had indeed given him the expensively good stuff. And to top it off, he would be spending the evening in the company of a very intriguing woman. He did feel drawn to her presence, and her small touches were subtle invitations for more. The way his evening had started off, he was eager to see where it would lead.

“Gentlemen, the main fight of the evening is about to commence. Tonight we present you: The Half-Giant versus The Bear in a life or death fight. Please place your bets now, gentlemen, before the fight starts.”

“Oh, I haven't seen The Half-Giant fight before,” Lilah said in a genuinely excited tone, straightening up. “He's a favourite with the patrons here!”

“You want to place a bet?” Seated on one end of Marla's bar, Draco followed her gaze towards the pit where the other patrons were now slowly assembling. Her hand was lingering on his thigh, with the index finger drawing small enticing circles; his own hand was placed on her lower back, carefully dipping lower. His body was humming lightly in approval of the touches, craving for more.

“You would place one for me?” She leaned in, her lips ever so lightly brushing over his cheek. “I have no way of paying you back...”

A wave of aroused excitement shot through him when she let her hand slip suggestively towards his groin to emphasise her words. He didn't care about money; he never had, and right now, he didn't mind spending it on her. Pinning her hand in the current position on his thigh, he finally nodded. “I would.”

“Gentleman indeed,” she replied and placed a soft kiss on his jaw before getting off her chair with a smile. “Follow me; I know the right guy to place the bet.”

Immediately missing the touch of her hand on his thigh, he followed her to the pit, appreciating the sight of her backside for a moment before catching up with her; she was already discussing with another staff member, a male this time.

“Tony, I tell you the truth, he wants to place a bet, and I can choose.”

“Lilah, staff can't place bets, you know that,” Tony replied rather stoically, continuing to count the bets he had already received. “Just do what you're told to.”

“Who do you want to bet on?” Draco asked, approaching her from behind, smiling when she turned towards him.

“The Half-Giant!”

“Sir, you want to place a bet?” Tony asked with a professional smile.

“Yes,” Draco replied coolly. “As the lady said, I wish to place it on The Half-Giant.”

Tony nodded, his smile unwavering. “How much?”

Lilah leaned in to whisper into Draco's ear, smiling broadly when he nodded. “I'll write it down.” She grabbed the pen and the piece of parchment from Tony to write down the amount of money Draco was willing to spend on her behalf as well as the name of the fighter it was bet on.

“Just so we're clear, it's _his_ bet,” Tony said when he received the piece of parchment back. “You won't get anything out of it, Lilah.”

“I know,” she retorted with a short roll of her eyes. “Now, let me do my job.”

“How many fights have you seen before?” Draco asked when they found a spot at the railings to see the fight; he let her stand at the railings and stood close behind her. He actually had to speak into her ear directly as the noise around them was deafening. Not that he minded much, it meant he could lean closely into her, which tempted him to kiss the spot just beneath her ear.

She turned her head to speak into his ear, smiling at him as always. “Too many. Part of the job here. You see enough?” Her smile broadened when he nodded and placed his arm around her waist.

Draco wasn't exactly keen on seeing someone getting killed in the pit, for he had seen enough death in his life to last him several more. But he was here on a mission, trying to gather enough information about everything. “Is every fight to the death?” he asked after the opponents were led into the pit.

“Almost, sometimes the boss varies things a bit, like one of them only has to punch the other unconscious while the other still fights to kill. And the fights aren't always fair either. Whatever brings the most spectacles that evening, I guess.” She brushed with her lips over his ear, trailing down to his jaw.

The fight itself was brutal since the opponents were almost evenly matched in strength. Lilah flinched several times when The Half-Giant got hit particularly hard, but Draco felt a bit queasy about it too, as it reminded him too much of the battles he had been in during the Second War. In the end, and to Lilah's joy, The Half-Giant won, ending his opponent's life for a cheering audience.

“I never won anything!” she exclaimed, turning around to hug Draco, kissing his cheek over and over again, until he turned his head and she landed on his lips instead.

Draco was electrified by the touch and claimed her lips in a fervent kiss. She was like a crave he needed to satisfy, a hunger that had lain dormant for far too long. And the way she responded only made him want more.

“Double Martini indeed,” she husked when she eventually broke off for air, licking her slightly puffed lips, pursed in a suggestive manner. “We do have more private rooms, furnished for every _need_...”

“Show me,” he said hungrily and kissed her again, wanting more of her, feeling like an addict who needed his fix now. His whole body was humming with the carnal desire to feel her everywhere.

“Let's collect your winnings first,” she whispered after pulling away again, her lips still brushing his; her hand was placed on his chest.

 

Seemingly long minutes later, they finally arrived in the room Lilah had mentioned; it was furnished like the main hall, the same dark wood, the same expensive fabric. The room was dominated by a king-sized bed, ready for whatever they had in mind now.

“Gods, you're so full of energy,” she whispered in a greedy tone, already occupied with his clothes, hastily trying to get them off, but as she grew impatient she simply tore at them. “I can feel it. I-I need it.”

Meanwhile, Draco didn't care that much any longer about her dress and just pulled it up to reveal that gorgeous body of hers. He was by now completely addicted to her touch, but he was at a point where it wasn't enough anymore. He moaned hungrily when she stroked over his groin in her attempt to get his trousers off and pinned her hand in front of it, urging her to repeat the stroking. Gods, he needed her now!

“Hey,” she let out in surprise when they arrived at the bed where he gently pushed her back so that she came to lie on it. Her moans were deep and loud when he started to trail kisses down her cleavage. “You're so good,” she uttered between moans when he nibbled, sucked, and kissed his way further along her breasts and down her belly. “But... But... I need to be on top.”

“Need?” he asked, wandering lower and lower on her belly with his kisses. He smiled into her skin when he heard her moan in surprise as his fingers finally managed to dive into her folds. Gods, she smelled absolutely intoxicating! He needed to have a taste!

“Oh, sweet Lilith!” She arched involuntarily when he added his tongue to her folds, framing his head with her thighs. “Just don't let me... come this way!”

Draco was too focused on feasting on her folds, on making her moan in need, to listen to her. No, she simply tasted too exquisite to stop now...

But she wouldn't let him have it, and instead pulled him up. “Let me sit on you,” she said, panting heavily. “Afterwards, I'll do whatever you want me to,” she added before kissing him deeply, her hands fumbling with his briefs and earning herself a low moan from him when she reached his member.

He pulled his briefs off to give her complete access, relishing in the touch of her hand that so expertly stroked his member. “Good,” he husked between kisses.

“Turn, please.” She gently pushed him up a few inches with her free hand.

He stopped kissing her and gazed at her for a heartbeat. She was still stroking his member expertly, knowing exactly which spots he liked. Yet there was also a needy plea visible on her face with her mouth forming the word _please_ again. He did prefer to be on top, but seeing her pleading so desperately, he nodded and rolled off on his back.

“Thank you!” Smiling suggestively, she propped herself up on her knees and bend down over him.

“Oh my gods!” He moaned loudly in surprise as she started sucking, she knew exactly what she was doing! Such a wicked tongue!

“I-I can't wait any longer, I need it now,” she said after a few more turns of licking and sucking him even closer to the edge. “You're so full of it.”

The moment she very slowly lowered herself on his cock was when Draco lost it. She was absolutely everywhere, flooding his body with heat and desire, driving every other thought out of his mind.

“Yes!” she hissed, grinding her hips into his, arching her back. “So good!”

“Hmm...”

She leaned forward once more, riding him increasingly faster. “More. I need more,” she moaned, placing her bare hand on his chest. “You have so much!”

“Fuck! Stop it!” Draco was roughly pulled out of his trance when he felt a painful sting spreading through his upper body, replacing the desire he had just felt moments before. “Wh-What are you doing?” he asked irritated, pushing her hand away. “Stop it, I said!”

“No, please! I-I need it,” she begged, still grinding her hips. “It won't... kill you.”

“No!” He grabbed her hands roughly to keep her from placing them once more on his chest. He was shocked about what just happened, and his head was again as clear as it had been when he had first arrived. However, his body was still humming with need.

“Please, let go,” she begged, trying to wriggle her hands free. “I... I need this.”

“No!”

She slumped down, hiding her face behind her hands. “I-I'm sorry. This is what I am, and... and they force me to do it. I wouldn't have taken more than absolutely necessary, I promise–”

“Can you get off me?”

“Of course,” she said quietly and carefully climbed down, looking ashamed of her actions. “Please understand that they forced me to treat you like this.”

“What are you?” he asked, eyeing her warily while propping himself up. He shook his head to keep his mind clear, as he was starting to feel his body crash down from the previous high, and he was going to crash down hard.

She sat down next to him on the edge of the bed. “I'm a succubus. I seduce men to feed on them... And I'm really sorry I had to do this to you. They made me do it to a lot of men, but you're the first I really feel sorry about. You shouldn't be here, you know?”

A succubus. He had heard about them in old tales, but he never thought they really existed. But from what he remembered, it explained why he had felt so helplessly drawn to her, up to the point of risking everything—his mission, _and Hermione_ —just for some sex. Taking a deep breath, he tried to keep the light shaking under control. In addition, he felt dizzy, and he was sure he was going to break out in sweat any moment. Not to mention the nausea.

Gods, he had expected anything in response to his request to join _The Organisation_ but not being seduced and fed upon by a succubus. To keep from swaying too much and feeling ever dizzier, he clutched at the edge of the mattress. “I should have realised earlier. But you were too good.”

“I'm sorry about tricking you. I actually hate it...” She curled herself up, resting her head on her knees; she was shaking too. “They know about you, that's why they chose me to be your company tonight. They knew you wouldn't be able to resist my _charms_ , that you'd be like dough in my hands.”

“Were you supposed to eliminate me?”

She shook her head. “No. I don't do that. More like trying to find out what you know... _They_ know who you're looking for, and they want to keep you away.” She sighed and rubbed her legs. “I wasn't raised like this... I mean my kind is adamant about consent, you know?”

“Your-Your kind?” Draco was now breathing more shallow, focusing his mind on the grip of his hands around the edge of the mattress. He was shaking more violently now, and still felt dizzy, but at least not like he was going to throw up any moment.

“We're only a few... Not many people like us for what we are.” After another deep sigh, she uncurled her legs to get up and collect her underwear. “I think I better leave now.”

“Stay. Please.”

“W-Why? I mean I just hurt you...”

“Just stay.” He smiled faintly at her reluctance and took a deep breath; his dizziness was slowly disappearing at last. “I think we both have something the other needs.”

* * *

 

The next morning, Draco woke up feeling completely groggy and exhausted; it took him a moment to realise where he was and why. But then the memories came back, images of the succubus woman telling him more about what she knew, such as names, places, and hierarchy. And then the image of her sitting on him again, hesitant to place her hand on his chest once more. He would need to save those memories as soon as possible; whether or not he would let Harry have them was another story.

He let his hand absent-mindedly run over the spot she had placed her hand the second time; it felt sensitive to the touch and was probably reddened, but his skin still felt intact. He didn't know who used whom in that moment, and he didn't feel exactly good about it. Even worse, it felt like a betrayal. How was he able to forget Hermione so easily in one night? Why had he let the succubus woman drive her out of his mind?

With his thoughts still lingering on Hermione and how he should have gone about this differently, he turned his head. He wasn't exactly surprised to find the other side empty; the succubus must have left at one point during the night. However, he was surprised to discover a piece of parchment with his name scribbled on it on the empty pillow. Groaning because of his protesting and sore muscles, he picked it up.

 

_When you find this note, I will be long gone, as I'm not allowed to stay all night with a client._  
_However, thank you for such a memorable night, and for letting me have your energy willingly._  
_You are indeed a gentleman and worth a triple Martini for what you did._

_There is one last piece of information you might be interested in. I didn't know how to tell you last night._  
_The person you are looking for is held captive in another fight pit, though I don't know where._  
_She is a creature, and I heard that she is a fierce fighter._

_I do hope you find her soon, and good luck with the rest!_

_Lilah_


	14. There's Just One Little Thing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No surprises in this chapter, just quietly driving the plot forward... :-)
> 
> Just a side-note to avoid confusion: The Hungarians in this chapter are in no way connected to the villain in Hermione's last chapter, their shared country of origin is somewhat of an coincidence. (and I'm bad at coming up with company names *haha*)
> 
> However, as always, many heartfelt thanks to _optimise_ , for being my beta reader and putting up with what I come up with, as well as for being a lovely person to talk to! :-**  
> Further, many thanks to _amyeco_ for answering any other question I might have, and just for cheering me on; you keep me motivated, love!
> 
> And of course many more thanks to _everyone else_ who listens to my doubts and rants about the writing process.  
>  Everyone's help is much appreciated as always! <3
> 
> Now, I do have an announcement to make: I have signed up for the Dramione Remix as well as the Dramione Duet on LJ. So, in order to have the capacity and the time to work on those two submissions, I will put Broken Feathers **on hold for at least July**.
> 
> Do not worry, **I WILL continue** with the story; I just need the break for the submissions as well as straightening the timeline of what is going to happen in Broken Feathers after this chapter... :-*

It was the first Monday in years that Draco had stayed in bed instead of getting up early for work. He still felt drained and exhausted from the evening at the club, with his chest painfully prickling in the spot the succubus had left her mark.

He had spent Sunday slipping in and out of sleep after he had made it back home, very slowly restoring his energy while his mind kept replaying the images from the club over and over again; a faint remnant of the crave cruised through his body. However, as stuck as his mind was on those memories, they came with a sea of guilt because he couldn't shake the feeling that he had betrayed Hermione with the succubus despite their current separation.

He was still dozing lightly when he heard the Floo go on, announcing that he was about to have an unwelcomed visitor. With a groan, he turned on his side and pulled his cover over his head in refusal to even acknowledge anything.

“Draco? Mate, are you here?”

It was Blaise. Even worse. Still hiding under his cover, Draco tried to reach for his wand on the nightstand to block the door, but instead of grabbing it, he pushed it off the nightstand. Maybe if he didn't move, Blaise wouldn't notice him...

“Draco. Get up, you lazy butt.”

Draco didn't move underneath the cover, still refusing to acknowledge his friend's presence. He wasn't in the condition to meet the world today. The only thing he had planned for this evening, or tomorrow, was having a head-to-head with Potter.

But Blaise wasn't having any of it and pulled the cover back to reveal Draco's upper body. “You look like shit.”

Draco only threw him a glare, barely avoiding a growl.

Blaise chuckled. “Like back in the olden days, mate. Had a good weekend then, I take it?”

“No.” Draco pulled the cover back up.

“I need you at the company... The Hungarian company has an answer to your deadline, and I know that's the one thing you wanted to be kept updated about–”

“A briefing afterwards would have sufficed.”

“No. Get up. The Hungarians actually want your presence. And since it was you who made the deadline, I think that's only fair.”

Draco disliked the amused tone in Blaise's voice, but he pushed the cover down again and even went as far as turning around to face Blaise. “I should change the wards to my place...”

“Whatever it is that you're nursing, it doesn’t matter. Get up and ready for work. I’m giving you thirty minutes...”

 

After a rather big dose of Invigoration Draught and a breakfast consisting of a single jam toast and the strongest black coffee that his house-elf could prepare, Draco was finally stumbling out of the Floo exit in the company, with Blaise already waiting for him. “Why again do you need my presence exactly?”

Blaise shrugged and then nodded in direction of the door of the  President  office. “They’re here. They didn't send an owl. All we got was a very short notice to be ready for their arrival.”

“First Monday that I have off in ages, yet you still manage to drag me back to work,” Draco said sardonically, checking his suit for dust. “Let's get it over with.”

Pansy was waiting outside the meeting room, playing with an empty coffee cup when the two men arrived. “Gods, you look like shit–”

“ _Stop_ , you’re making me blush,” Draco retorted, rolling his eyes briefly at her.

“Compared to how I found him, he looks good, actually,” Blaise said, not hiding the amused smirk, then beckoning both them inside. “As Draco said, ' _let's get it over with_ '.”

The Hungarians were involved in a lively conversation with Astoria and Daphne, who had all sorts of questions about wizarding life in Eastern Europe to keep their guests entertained. However, the conversation immediately stopped when Draco entered, with Blaise and Pansy following behind him.

Of course, he did notice the slight narrowing of Astoria's eyes when she saw him while Daphne smiled softly. He nodded towards both of them, but he returned the smile to Daphne before he went on to properly greet his visitors, noticing that they had brought the same translator as last time. “Gentlemen, welcome back to my company. We do appreciate you coming in person to let us know your decision. Shall we?”

The Hungarians nodded in unison, all of them eyeing him sceptically while he took a seat at the meeting room table. Then the leader of their group said something to the translator who just sighed.

“Sir, we’ve been informed about the change in leadership in your company,” the translator finally said, relaying what the other had told him. “It didn't go exactly unnoticed in the business world that you stepped back from the position as President of this company, citing...  _Mi az_?” He shared a questioning look with the leader of the group, then he seemed to remember the word he was looking for. “ _Igen_. Citing exhaustion, or rather a burn-out.”

“That is correct,” Draco replied, leaning back. News in the business world travelled fast, it seemed, even without him giving any personal statement about it. He was momentarily distracted by Astoria handing out the coffee from the side table, receiving many smiles from the Hungarian party but willingly ignoring him. “I'm sure that Mr Zabini would have been able to make the deal with you just as well.”

“You set the deadline, Mr Malfoy,” the translator replied, leaning towards the group leader again, nodding. “That's why we require your presence, even if your signature isn't binding anymore.”

Draco curled his lips into a professional smile to keep himself from responding sarcastically. “As you can see, I met your requirement.” With a raised eyebrow, he watched the translator arguing quietly with the leader; he didn't understand a single word, but he was pretty sure from the gestures used that the translator didn't want too much interruption from the leader. “So, do you have an answer to our offer?”

“Yes, we do,” the translator said, putting on a polite smile. “My client has let the employees decide on the deal after informing them of the details, and they agreed to accept the offer. That is why we are here—we accept the offer as it stands.”

Draco nodded and quickly glanced over to Blaise whose posture relaxed slightly. Maybe that was the difference between them? Draco liked to be in charge of everything  _(and assume responsibility)_ , while Blaise preferred to have someone else shoulder the ultimate responsibility, as good as he otherwise was. “Is there anything you want to add to the contract before we sign it?”

After the Hungarians shook their heads, Pansy Summoned the copies of the contract to be signed from her bag. “You can check it if you want... It contains exactly what we have negotiated, down to the last number.”

Both parties pulled out their fountain pens to place their first signatures on the copies before them. Draco felt an itch in his hand while watching Blaise sign his copy of the contract with his usual elegant yet bold style. It felt weird being left out such an important moment, forced to watch others do what had been part of his position until recently. But then, his signature was indeed not binding at the moment, only Blaise's.

 

Shortly after, everything was said and done in regards to the deal with the Hungarians, and it now only had to await approval from the Hungarian Ministry of Magic, but given the current political situation that had even somewhat pervaded the country's wizarding population, it could take some time, even though they had already taken all necessary steps. However, given that the British Ministry had approved the deal long ago, this was only a matter of time now.

“How was your weekend, mate?” Blaise asked when he and Draco left the meeting room after everyone else had already left. “You really looked like shit when I picked you up.”

“Exhausting,” Draco replied, briefly brushing over the still sensitive spot on his chest, walking next to Blaise along the hallway. “Been to a very interesting place and made a rather fascinating acquaintance.”

“Don't tell me you're moving on...”

Draco glared at him and then shook his head. “Never.”

Blaise shrugged, accepting the answer. “So,  _a fascinating acquaintance_ , you said? Good-looking?”

Draco stopped and smirked briefly. “A succubus. Didn't realise until was almost too late.”

“What?” Blaise blurted in surprise. “A succubus? Are you serious?”

Amused by his friend's reaction, Draco chuckled. As much as the experience still disturbed him, Blaise's shocked expression was almost worth it. “I can show you the proof,” he said, rubbing his chest once more.

“I thought they were only tales to scare us boys into behaving–”

“She would have wrapped you around her little finger with just her smile if she wanted to. Totally your type, too.”

“Mate, stop it. I have a wife with a good hex that I absolutely adore...” Smirking, Blaise patted on Draco's shoulder and nodded towards the end of the hallway to move on.

“She was good at it, but it was still a strange experience. However, I got a lot of information out of her. Just need to prepare it for Potter.”

“Going to the Ministry later?”

Draco nodded and stopped again as they reached the stairs to the top floor with his former office and the personal Floo connection. “There's something else I need to talk about with him.”

* * *

 

Draco felt the exhaustion return when he arrived back at his place, just aching to crawl back into bed and sleep, but he had more important things to do still—such as prepare the memories of his night at the club for Potter.

“Master has a letter from his mother.”

Surprised to hear his house-elf address him in her usual timid manner, he turned around to face the creature; she was holding up the letter for him to grab. “Thanks, Tilly,” he said, taking the letter. “Could you collect as many vials as you can find and bring them to my study? I need to store a few memories...”

“Yes, Master.”

He didn't even notice the house-elf disappear, as he was focused on the letter. It was indeed his mother's old-fashioned but elegant handwriting that could only be done with a quill. With a sigh, he finally opened the letter, knowing what to expect. Inside the envelope, he found an article from the economics section of the Daily Prophet about the leadership changes in his company next to the letter; the article was just a short snippet stating the facts and a line that no comment was to be had from those involved, written by that same reporter who had had the guts to ask him for an interview a couple of weeks ago; Kerr was the name if he was right.

 

_Draco,_

_It is unbearable that I have to learn about those changes through a side-note in this abysmal newspaper and not from you in person._

_What, in Merlin's name, has possessed you? I thought I told you at Blaise's dinner party that you need to have your priorities straight—the family and the company always come first._ _You seem to have forgotten that._

_I know that you are still grieving her loss, but you can't let your emotions control your decisions, my dear son. Malfoys aren't emotional, and we certainly do not mourn after losing someone for such a long time._

_It's like I don't recognise you any longer. Where's that responsible, grown-up Draco who would visit me occasionally? I haven't seen you smile in a long while; I've come to miss it..._

_Please, let go of whatever dream you still have with her; it's certainly been long enough. Let go and assume your responsibilities again. This is not going to end well otherwise..._

_Your loving mother_

 

Exactly what he had expected to receive from his mother. It was one of those brief moments when he just hated being a Malfoy because every single move ended up in the newspaper—not always on the front page but always enough for a mention inside the pages. And on top of that, he had to deal with his parents' expectations. It made him acutely aware how much he really still missed Hermione, for it had been so much easier to deal with everything when they were still together. As much as he loved his friends and appreciated their patience and support, it wasn't the same; with her, he had been able to talk about everything and knew that she would listen. And sometimes she had dealt with his parents when they had been too overbearing; right then, he wished she would do it again for him.

He would deal with his mother when he felt up to the game; he had other things on his mind anyway, and he didn't want to waste any time arguing with her.

“Tilly has collected the vials; they are on the desk in the study.”

“Thanks.” With a sigh, Draco made his way to the study, the letter from his mother still in his hand. Maybe he shouldn't just retrieve the memories of the night at the club but some other as well?

* * *

 

“Draco, I thought you were undercover–”

Draco stopped on his way to Harry's office when he heard Theo call out his name. He nodded briefly when his friend approached him and noticed that, except for Riverside pretending to read, every other Auror was absent. He had met a couple chatting on the lift when he had come in, so he guessed that they had either gone home for a break or were in the field checking out info and whatever. It wasn't that he cared much about what they did, anyway, as his mind was focused on the moment he could get hold of Harry. “Potter wants an update.”

“He's in a meeting with the Minister–”

Draco sighed in frustration and let his head fall back before returning his focus to Theo. “I want to speak to him NOW.”

“Well, don't we all? He's with the  _Minister_!” Theo grabbed his arm when Draco turned around to walk off.  “Just don't. You don't want to be there... The media hasn't been too nice with their lack of reported results. Be glad they don't know about your involvement.”

Draco grumbled. He had already wasted most of the day at the company because Blaise had insisted on his presence during the final discussion with the Hungarians to take over their company—keeping him from delivering his information. “Maybe I should have a talk with the Minister too–”

“No, you don't, Malfoy.”

“Boss, how did it go?”

“I need to speak to you, Potter.” Draco completely ignored Theo's question and turned to face Harry, his jaw tightly clenched. Just the sight of Harry already made his pressure rise through the roof, and the urge to just yell at him grew with every second. “Now.”

“Malfoy, I just had a rather unpleasant meeting with the Minister about our  _lack of results_  and the possibility of collaboration with foreign Ministries to widen the search; give me a moment to brea–”

“Now.”

Harry pushed his glasses up to rub his eyes, letting out a tired and annoyed sigh. “Aren't Snakes said to be patient?”

“You never met a black mamba, then, have you?” Draco retorted, not bothering to hide the spite in his voice. “Your office,  _now_.”

Harry wasn't the least bit intimidated and stared right back at him. “What's the bloody matter with you?”

Without an answer, Draco grabbed Harry's robes to drag him into the office; in the corner of his eyes, he saw Theo return to his desk, while Harry was trying to pry out of his grip all the way to the office. However, Draco only let go once they were inside and immediately cast the  _Silencio_  to make sure that no one outside would hear what they were going to discuss now.

“What the hell is the matter with you? Did something go wrong on Saturday?”

Draco only sneered at him in response and pulled the  vials  with his memories of that evening out of his suit pockets. “You might want to skip the juicier parts.”

“You succeeded then?”

Draco nodded. “There's just one little thing...”

“Malfoy, we discussed the plans in detail. You said yourself you can't withdraw now–”

“YOU KNEW!” Draco pulled out the note from the succubus and slammed it on the table, next to the vials that made a jump in response. “Hermione wasn't kidnapped because she knew too much; she is one of those fighters in the pits–”

“Oh God!”

“POTTER, YOU BLOODY KNEW THE WHOLE TIME ABOUT–”

“Don't you shout at me, Malfoy!”

“SHE'S A CREATURE, AND YOU KNEW ABOUT IT!”

“Yes,” Harry admitted, wincing as if in pain.

Momentarily taken aback, Draco just stared at him. He didn't expect for Harry to admit it so freely. “So why hasn't anyone else mentioned it before? This is downright insulting that you knew the whole time–”

“Malfoy, take a bloody breath, would you?” Harry interjected, still rubbing his ribs. “Have you forgotten how thorough Hermione is when she plans something?”

“No, I haven't! What is it? Am I not good enough to be told about such a crucial thing? Not trustworthy enough?”

“You're just like her right now! Don't you think I would have told you that if I had been able to? I literally CAN'T speak about it, as much I would love to because I think you both are being stupid about the whole situation. Malfoy, she made me take an Oath of Secrecy–”

“Still–”

“Stop being a git, seriously! It was even painful to just admit that I know,” Harry stopped him with a glare, his jaw clenched to keep from wincing once more in pain. “More and the oath puts me in hospital. I'm sure the name Marietta Edgecombe rings a bell...”

Draco nodded impatiently. “The girl who betrayed the DA to Umbridge. I was there during the interrogation, Potter. She looked hideous with those scars.”

“That's how far Hermione is willing to go to protect herself. You know that, so please stop your act–”

“How did it happen?” Draco asked, tapping on the note, willingly ignoring Harry's words—he knew too well what Hermione was capable of, he just hadn't expected to be the one on the receiving end. “When?”

“Stop it, okay? I wish I could talk with you about the whole thing, but I can't even talk to Ginny about it, Malfoy, that's how thorough the oath is. I can't even tell my own wife, for fuck's sake!”

“Who else knows?”

Harry shook his head.

“Gods!” Draco let out a frustrated huff.

“Are you going to back out now?”

“The hell no! Gods, why should I? This is Hermione we're speaking of, Potter. You have no fucking idea how far I'd still go for just her! No fucking clue...” Draco took a deep breath to keep control, even momentarily leaning against the desk. He was still angry, he just didn't know at whom anymore—at Potter for not telling, or at Hermione for keeping it from him for so long, or at himself for waiting all those years in the hope she might come back on herself? “What the hell was she thinking?”

Harry shrugged. “I'm the wrong person to ask that.”

“Yes,” Draco replied with a single, acknowledging nod, straightening up again. “It's just insulting that she told you but preferred to break up with me. It's like she didn't trust me I've really changed–”

“I told her many times to just talk to you... Her hexes still sting sometimes.”

Draco nodded and picked up one of the  vials  for another look at the iridescent colour. “I'd skip the more explicit parts if I were you. I'm not exactly proud of what I did that night.” He definitely wasn't proud of  _anything_  he had done that night, but sometimes you didn't question the ways of getting information. His chest still hurt where the succubus had put her hand the second time to drain energy, and he was now unconsciously rubbing the spot with his free hand.

“Whatever gets us results.” Harry pushed his glasses back up and brushed his hand through his hair that now had even more grey streaks. “Anything else you want to shout at me?”

“Don't think this is over yet,” Draco said, narrowing his eyes at Potter while putting the vial back on the desk. “Far from over and–”

In that moment, the door opened and Theo rushed in, but then he stopped mid-track to stare at the others in mild surprise. “And here I was hoping you'd hex each other into oblivion about whatever you just argued.”

“What is it?” Harry retorted, his patience visibly starting to wear thin while trying to keep a barely friendly tone.

“You won't believe what I have to tell you,” Theo said with a spark in his eyes that had a hint of anger in it. “You're both going to hate it.”

“Just tell us, Nott. My day can barely get any worse,” Harry said with a quick side-glance to Draco.

“I know who the mole in our midst is.”


	15. The Mole

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back from hiatus!
> 
> I'm so sorry it took me so long to get back to posting, but I completely miscalculated the effort for both the Dramione Remix ("Here's Looking At Us") and the Dramione Duet ("Cleansing"). Plus I wanted to have a couple of chapters ready before I start posting again, to have less stress writing it. FYI, I'll resume the fortnightly schedule for posting the chapters.
> 
> This chapter immediately follows the last chapter, where Nott has discovered the mole, and shows how they deal with it—however professional or emotional it is.
> 
> And last, but not least: A big thank you to _luunascope_ for taking over as beta after my previous had sadly needed to step back because of RL. Thanks to Grace, aka _optimise_ , for everything you did, your help was greatly appreciated!
> 
> Enjoy, and please do leave a comment if you liked it! They make my day and keep me going... =)

Harry had never seen Draco in such a murderous state, losing his control as soon as Nott had mentioned the name. All he could do was run after the blond for damage control. “Malfoy!”

However, Draco seemed deaf in his rage, marching straight towards the cells, his fingers tightly wound around his wand. “Who would dare...!”

“Malfoy! You're only making it worse!” Harry shouted, trying to keep up with Draco and failing, cursing his exhaustion and the longer legs of the other. Seconds later, he could hear the tell-tale sound of spells being cast in the cell area, and he took up speed because he didn't need a dead prisoner before he had the chance to interrogate him. He shared Draco's desire to take out revenge on anyone, but there were other ways to do it—Cursing someone into oblivion wasn't enough. Not if they wanted Hermione back in one piece.

“RIVERSIDE! HOW COULD YOU?!” Draco was completely focused on causing Riverside as much pain as he possibly could, only shying back from using the Unforgivable Curses which were still punished with a life sentence in Azkaban. But it wasn't much that kept him back. “NOT HERMIONE! YOU PIECE OF UTTER SHIT!”

Riverside, who had already been placed in the cell by Nott earlier, had no chance of defence against the onslaught of jinxes and curses being cast in his direction. He was panting heavily, wincing in pain, but not yet begging for mercy.

“ _YOU_ DESERVE WHAT SHE IS GOING THROUGH!” Draco's voice was getting coarser, but his rage did not ease down—he was fully consumed by it. “Sectumsempra!”

Horrified, Harry saw the white light of the Curse leave Malfoy's wand, only to see it miss Riverside by an inch. This has gone too far now! “Expelliarmus!”

“Potter!”

To Harry's relief, Draco's wand flew in his direction so that he could catch it. However, disarming Draco also meant that he was now a target for his rage as well—and Draco was beyond the point of reason at the moment. “Enough! THIS is not helping _her_ at all, Malfoy!”

“Give me back my wand, POTTER! I'm not done yet!” Draco stormed towards Harry, his hand stretched out demandingly, his eyes so dark it was scary to see. “I've seen those fights, Potter! You have no idea what she is going through! We could have found her long ago!”

Harry stayed where he was, not shrinking away from a furious Draco, but he moved the Hawthorn wand out of his reach. “I'm not going to tolerate the abuse of my prisoners, is that understood?”

“He deserves it!”

“Probably, but that's not up to you to decide!” Harry drew his own wand to point it at Draco who was threatening to attack him physically. “No! Calm the fuck down! Or our deal is over!”

That made Draco finally stop in his tracks. “You wouldn't dare–”

“Get out, Malfoy! _I will_ deal with Riverside! Hermione is as much my responsibility as you think it's yours.” When Draco didn't move, Harry lifted his wand to emphasise his words. “Leave, or I will put you in a cell as well...”

“ _Fine_.” With a last growl, Draco finally left the cell area, but not without pushing into Harry's shoulder.

Harry clenched his jaw to avoid hexing the annoying git for his petty behaviour. He did understand the rage, even sympathised with it—but they couldn't afford any mistakes right now in order to catch all involved in Hermione's kidnapping. After a deep breath and twirling Malfoy's wand in his hand, he returned his attention to Riverside, who was still recovering from the onslaught of hexes and jinxes cast at him just moments ago; at least he regained a sitting position.

“Thanks, boss.”

“Just one thing, Riverside... You will wish you'd never betrayed any of us, especially not me.” Harry came up to Riverside's cell. “Malfoy's rage is nothing compared to what I wish to do to you. Hermione is family, and you sold her out. You will pay for that, one way or another—and if I have to pay for a Dementor to suck out your soul...”

“B-Boss, that's illegal!” Riverside let out in shock, but he gained his composure again a second or two later.

Harry only narrowed his eyes threateningly at Riverside. “You sold out one of _us_ , prepare to pay for it.” The longer he glared at Riverside, the more he understood Draco's rage, his desire for revenge, even felt it prickle in his fingers that were still playing with Draco's wand. No one attacked those he considered family without going unpunished, and he would make sure that Riverside paid the highest price possible for what he had done. “You'll be questioned later.”

With a bitter, rather pained smirk, Riverside leaned against the wall. “You can't pressure me like Barsky...”

Harry had just turned around to walk out when he heard Riverside's words. It took him quite some effort not to respond to Riverside's taunting words; with only a short shake of his head, he made to leave the cell area. 

 

Draco was waiting right at the entrance to the cell area, impatiently walking up and down in front of it. “You still have my wand, _Potter_.”

“That was completely uncalled for, Malfoy. Utterly unprofessional!” Harry retorted, grinding his teeth at Draco's petty tone. “I feared you'd react like that–”

“How in Merlin's seven hells can you stay calm? If he hadn't sabotaged everything, we could have found _Hermione_ weeks ago!”

“I'm not calm.” Harry finally handed back the wand he had confiscated earlier, stepping up to Draco with a stern look over the rim of his glasses. “And you're banned from the cell area.”

“POTTER!” With a growl, Draco snatched his wand from Harry's hand, immediately checking it for any damage. “You agreed to an all-access deal, remember?”

“It was based on the assumption that you'd behave professionally.” With a sigh, Harry passed Draco to walk over to his office. He needed a moment to himself before he could deal with Riverside. In the corner of his eye, he saw Nott leaning expectantly against his desk, watching them from afar. “Nott, you're my partner in the interrogation. Bring me everything you got on him.”

“Not Weasley?” Theo asked in surprise, but he immediately started collecting everything on his desk.

“He'd kill Riverside on sight for endangering Hermione.”

“Let me have five minutes with Riverside, and he will tell us everything,” Draco said, a low growl escaping him while he followed Harry through the rows in the open desk area.

Taking a deep breath, Harry turned around. The blond was testing his already thin nerves with his insistence. “No, Malfoy. You can watch from the observation room, but that's it. Nott and I will do the interrogation. Is that clear?”

“Why? You're just as personally affected–”

“SHUT IT, MALFOY!” Harry exploded. “YOU ARE NOT QUALIFIED! AND YOU'RE COMPLETELY BLINDED BY WHATEVER YOU STILL FEEL FOR HERMIONE!”

“YOU ARE TOO! AT LEAST YOU KNEW ABOUT–”

“MALFOY, DON'T! THIS ISN'T THE TIME FOR BEING PETTY!”

“I'M NOT PETTY!”

“I WONDER HOW HERMIONE WAS ABLE TO LIVE WITH YOU!”

Draco huffed at Harry's retort, shaking visibly from the effort not to lose his control. “I wonder how Ginny can live with you, as short-tempered and short-sighted you still are. At least you let her work for the Prophet...”

“SHE–”

“Stop it, both of you!” Theo demanded, glaring at them with his wand ready to cast any spell to keep them fighting any further. “Insulting each other, however satisfying it feels, doesn't help.”

“You almost killed him, Malfoy. The _Sectumsempra_!” Harry hissed, taking a step back.

“You're the expert on it, right?” Draco taunted. “I still have the fucking scars from your attack...”

With a desperate roll of his eyes, Theo cast the _Silencio_ on both of them. “Enough! We don't have the time for petty games; we have an interrogation to prepare.” He glared at Harry when he saw him clench his fists. “I'll revoke the spell when you both stop fighting over nothing.”

To Theo's relief, the both nodded seconds later, albeit reluctantly so. “We had a deal, Potter,” Draco muttered as soon as he had regained his voice.

Harry shook his head and took a deep breath. Theo was right, a shouting match with Malfoy was pointless right now—he needed his nerves and calm to deal with the mole, and he had just lost it. “Look, Riverside is my responsibility; he slipped _my_ notice long enough. I don't want to fuck this up any further than I already have because I want Hermione back just as much as you do. So, please, let me do the job I'm trained for...”

Also taking a deep breath, Draco ran a hand through his hair and nodded to Harry's relief. “Fine...”

Harry smiled thinly. “Get yourself a drink in the cafeteria; I need to prepare myself first.”

* * *

 

It had taken Draco a detour outside to have a proper alcoholic drink in order to calm down to a manageable level. He felt once more in control of his emotions, though his anger was still simmering just below the surface. Thank the gods there had been a Muggle place not too far from the Ministry where he had downed a double shot of their strongest whisky. With a melancholic sting to his heart, he remembered that there had only ever been two things capable of bringing him back down from a rage—Hermione, and a shot of Firewhisky or its Muggle equivalent, ever since she had introduced him to it.

Now settled in the observation room with a paper cup of the strongest coffee the cafeteria had, Draco watched how Riverside was brought in for questioning, and he could barely resist the urge to barge into the room to continue throwing hexes and jinxes at the man who had dared to sabotage Hermione's rescue mission. Oh no, he was nowhere near done with him.

Drinking a sip, Draco watched Harry sort the file in front of him, the jaw taut from restraint anger. He hadn't said anything yet, but it was clear that it took him a lot of effort to stay professional—something Draco envied Harry for right now.

“Hey, _you_ here?”

Surprised to hear another voice in the observation room, Draco turned around to find Ron entering, brows furrowed questioningly.

“Potter wouldn't let me join the interrogation,” Draco replied coolly and returned his attention back to the interrogation.

“Why are they questioning Riverside?” Ron joined him in front of the one-sided mirror to have a look into the other room.

“I take it you haven't been informed?”

Ron shook his head and stuck his hands into the pockets of his trousers. “Just got a call from Harry to come in. Something about a mole. He didn't mention you.”

Draco let out a bitter chuckle, his eyes still glued to the three men in the other room. “You missed quite a show.”

“The way Harry looks, I'm pretty sure. Especially if you were involved as well.”

Draco finally turned his head to look at Ron, his eyes narrowed ever so slightly. “Riverside's the mole. He's the reason why we haven't found Hermione yet,” he said, curious whether Harry was right in his assumption that Ron might kill Riverside on the spot. And from the way Ron's whole posture stiffened while his jaw clenched, Harry might have been correct. Somehow, when it came to Hermione, the three of them felt similar—they all were highly protective of her, to the point of losing their cool when she was in danger.

“He's the one?” Ron finally said through gritted teeth, now crossing his arms, his fingers twitching from the restraint not to reach for the wand and just storm into the other room.

“Yes.” Draco nodded. “He'd be dead now if Harry hadn't stopped me...”

In the interrogation room, the silent game was still going strong, with Riverside slowly growing more nervous the longer Harry just stared at him, disdain—if not straight hatred—turning his eyes into a dangerously dark green.

“Riverside better spill whatever he knows, or he might not make it out alive,” Ron said, more to himself.

“You have nothing to pin on me, except for his word,” Riverside said in the interrogation room, leaning back in defiance and nodding towards Theo sitting next to Harry. “And wasn't he responsible that she got kidnapped in the first place? Because he didn't follow protocol during a stakeout mission?”

The only reaction Draco could see from Theo was him cracking his knuckles—even through the one-sided mirror, Draco imagined he could hear the sound. “What's the protocol?”

“It just says to keep constant contact when checking out a location, sight or call,” Ron replied rather absent-minded, his attention just as fixed on the interrogation as Draco. “I've read the reports of that night... No mistake made.”

“Riverside, you wouldn't be sitting here based on a simple accusation,” Harry meanwhile replied flatly, opening the file in front of him. “Nott has accumulated quite a few proofs of your sabotage, such as changing files so that certain information pertaining to _The Organisation_ disappeared, or you planted wrong information that would lead us away from them. And I'm convinced you even delivered inside information about our cases and operations–”

“You're the reason why that factory hall was empty when we raided it,” Theo added calmly, though there was a hint of menace in his voice.

“All I want to know is _why_?”

Draco almost destroyed the now empty paper cup in his hands when Riverside only shook his head in response to Harry's question. The urge to wipe off that damn smirk off that bastard's face resurged, letting him flex his fingers to avoid reaching for his wand, then he saw a similar reaction in Ron.

“He's always been a bit peculiar, that one,” Ron said, clenching his jaw. “Always stayed longer than the others and stuff. Not too much into team building...”

“Power,” Riverside said, his voice rather smooth; however, his fingers were drumming nervously on the table. “The Organisation holds the real power behind everything. The Ministry is just a puppet. Everyone is.”

Draco could only shake his head at the discrepancy between Barsky who had broken down from the pressure, and Riverside's cocky behaviour. Of course, the latter knew the procedures of an interrogation all too well as an Auror. Barsky had understood his role as a small cog in the wheel, a mistake that had trapped him for the rest of his life. Riverside's cocky answer about power, however, reminded him eerily of his days amongst the Death Eaters, or rather what his father had told him about their glory days to seduce him to join—it was the same cocky false feeling of importance because they had belonged to what they thought was an elite group that controlled everything. In the end, it had all come crumbling down.

“Reminds me of some people,” Ron commented with a slightly abrasive tone to his voice before he turned his head. “Looks like it's the same for you.”

Draco nodded, his gaze still fixed on the scene in the interrogation room. “He sounds like my father when I was younger. The same delusion.”

It seemed Harry had the same impression, as his eyebrow rose sceptically. “I've heard similar talks about power before,” he said, his voice dripping with cynicism. “All dead now.”

“Potter, the _saviour_ of the world,” Riverside remarked, clicking his tongue before he leaned back with crossed arms. “You did us a favour actually. Voldemort left a vacuum behind at the Ministry–”

“–so that people like you could step in,” Harry finished the sentence, a slight crack audible at the end. “Cocky little shits with absolute no regard for others.” He shared a brief look with Theo, who only nodded and then pulled out a vial with a clear liquid on the table.

Riverside's eyes were fixed on the vial, his lips twitching, but he said nothing. Only his body stiffening revealed to Draco that he knew what the vial meant.

“This time it's no bluff,” Ron remarked. “Betraying one of our own is the line Harry draws. And Riverside knows that.”

“I told him to give me five minutes with that arse to get what he wants,” Draco replied, a low growl emphasising his words.

Ron turned his head to look at him, his eyebrow raised. “For once, I agree with you.”

In the interrogation room, Theo had placed himself behind Riverside, similar to what Ron had done with Barsky—but with less restraint, as he was already pulling Riverside's arm back to fix him in place. “You’re worse than the lowest Death Eater scum,” Theo said with a growl, “and I've met a few. But you know what they were especially good at?” He pulled Riverside's arm further up to emphasise his words, only satisfied when the suspect let out a pained whimper.

Draco could see a satisfaction flicker over Harry's face in response to the whimper, though his eyes were still glinting dangerously. A shiver ran down his spine, knowing he was about to witness a side of the Head Auror he had barely ever witnessed before; a quick glance to Ron showed that he had seen it before, as his lips had disappeared into a thin line and he had taken an anticipating position as if he was waiting for an explosion of sorts.

“You know what my father taught me before he died fighting for his beliefs, as wrong as they were?” Theo continued, his voice full of deeply buried menace allowed to run free.

“You can kill... you can kill me,” Riverside said, adding a bitter laugh, “but you won't ever stop them.”

“Oh, we're not going to kill you,” Harry replied dangerously calmly, swaying the vial with the Veritaserum between his fingers. It looked like he was considering the options he had—the use of the Truth Potion or Nott's threat. A simple nod towards his interrogation partner decided it.

Theo pulled Riverside up as roughly as he could, only to push him into the next wall from where moments later pained screams were heard.

“What's he doing?” Draco asked, surprised at the developments in the interrogation room. “Is that a _Crucio_?”

Ron shook his head adamantly. “Even we aren't allowed to use it, even though Riverside would deserve it–”

“Oh, yes, he does.”

“Yeah, Nott uses an old curse that causes pain but without the lasting effects of the _Crucio_. And yes, we had the background checked thoroughly.”

As Riverside only laughed when he stopped the first wave of the curse, Theo repeated it after a brief nod from Harry, who had a scarily bloodthirsty look.

“No one ever attacks _my_ family, and no one ever betrays _me_.”

“You're using torture to get a confession,” Riverside said between screams. “If the Minister hears about this–”

Harry joined them at the wall, pulling his glasses off for a quick cleaning swipe. “You don't get it. I have free reign to do what needs to be done to find Hermione. So what do you know about her whereabouts?”

“You won't find her. Whatever The Organisation has claimed is theirs.”

“Where is she?” Harry repeated, nodding to Theo to repeat the curse.

Riverside's screams started to get coarser, yet his defiant smirk remained. “I don't know. It's not my job to know those details... If she's lucky, she's already dead. She's just collateral damage–”

That was when Harry snapped. He pulled Theo back and sent his former Auror flying through the interrogation room with a wandlessly cast Levitation Spell, letting him crash into wall after wall, even hitting the one-sided mirror once. “A DEMENTOR'S KISS IS TOO NICE FOR YOU!”

Both Ron and Draco immediately joined them in the interrogation room for damage control. Ron handled Harry, which took him some effort, while Draco teamed up with Theo to secure Riverside.

“Where is she?” Draco demanded, pulling Riverside up. “Tell us or you wish you'd be dead.”

Riverside laughed cockily, though he winced slightly from the pain at the hands of the others in the room. “I really don't know, Malfoy. And if I knew, I wouldn't tell _you_. How's Maude?”

“You think a dead owl scares me?” Draco replied, adding a threatening chuckle before he shared a look with Theo. “Death Eaters at least had style, you're just scum. I promise you, if we find her alive, I will let her have a go at you. And Potter will turn a blind eye, I'm sure.”

“I just might,” Harry said in the back. “Let me go, Ron. I'm fine.”

Draco turned his head around, only to see that Ron still had Harry in a grip that kept him under control. He nodded in response to Ron's questioningly raised eyebrow, then he turned back to Riverside. “See the four of us in this room? We will make sure that no stone is left unturned to find Hermione, and we will take down everyone and everything in our way. Understood?”

Riverside wanted to laugh once more, but the smile died, and he only nodded.

“Good.” Draco let him down, albeit rather roughly. “Theo, take him back to his cell, make sure he has no contact with other prisoners.”

“We need to discuss everything,” Harry said, having regained his usual calm, controlled disposition. He smiled grimly when the others all nodded. “But first, a drink.”

* * *

 

It was late at night when the day finally came to an end for Draco, as the discussion with the other three about the somewhat botched interrogation didn't want to end, going through the same points over and over again until they were all exhausted.

He had reached his limit, exhausted beyond belief after everything he had been through during the weekend. Yet he couldn't leave the Auror Department without another visit to Hermione's office. Harry had warded it so that only the two of them could enter it to avoid further tampering with anything inside it, and Draco was silently glad for it.

It had been eight years ever since he had last spoken to her, had last felt the comfort of her presence, but nothing had changed in all those years—as soon as he entered her office, he felt oddly calmer, probably his magic responding to her still lingering magical residue.

He took the picture he had seen the last time off the shelf to have another good look at it, smiling faintly at the captured kiss on his cheek. Today, for a moment, it had felt like she was slipping through his fingers, that they wouldn't be able to find her in time, and it had scared him profoundly. So, holding the picture was like bringing back the faint hope they all clung to. No, deep inside him, he knew she was still alive, in whatever hell she was. He wanted her to give him another of those kisses on his cheek that might turn into something more—even if might take a long while to get back there, if at all.

“I'm sorry I couldn't tell you about her.”

Draco quickly turned towards the door, only to see Harry leaning against the frame. He nodded and returned his gaze to the picture in his hand. “It's not your fault, I think.”

“I did beg her to just tell you, to talk to you, that you would be able to find a way to live with it. She was scared, you know?”

“Scared?” Surprised to hear that, Draco looked up again, gently twirling the picture in his hands. “Scared I'd leave her?”

His lips pressed into a thin line, Harry nodded.

Draco sighed. “I guess you remember the months after she disappeared?”

“Vividly. It was hell for all of us.”

“Yes, _hell_ is the perfect word for it.”

Harry suppressed a yawn, then pushed his glasses back up. “Promise me one thing, Malfoy. If we get her back alive, let me have a talk with her first before you bring her to your safe house.”

Narrowing his eyes slightly at Harry, Draco let the words run through his mind for a second. “Might be a good idea... The house is basically ready for her. It's heavily warded, better than your safe houses ever will be.”

“Good to know.” With a tired smile, Harry nodded towards the hallway. “Now, let's go home. It's late enough.”

It was indeed late, and Draco started to feel the toll of his angry outburst, as the exhaustion had started taking over. With a sigh, he placed the picture back on the shelf. “I'm sorry about what I said earlier. Ginny's still pretty bad-ass.”

Harry showed a short, proud grin while Draco joined him at the door. “She is. And she is going to kill me for getting home even later than usual these days.”

“Tell her I held you up... It's not entirely untrue.”

“Yeah, I might let you deal with her for once... Sorry about baiting you with Hermione, by the way. I know she could deal with you better than anyone else in the group.”

Draco nodded in acknowledgement and passed through to the hallway. “Now, home.”


	16. Sharp Claws and Burning Skin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last Hermione POV chapter, as the boys are getting close to find her location.  
> So, please be aware of the **Trigger Warnings** for the following: _Graphic Violence, Depiction of a Killing, Assault and Torture_.
> 
> Secondly, many thanks to luunascope for not only being brave enough to proofread the chapter, but also helping me figuring out what was bugging me with this chapter!
> 
> And of course many thanks to those who are patient enough to listen to my ramblings and doubts! I love you all! :-*

This time, Hermione was the one waiting for her opponent to arrive in the fight pit, amidst the deafening noise of the audience cheering and clapping whenever she looked up without seeing anything specific. She had been requested specifically to fight tonight for some guest of honour, despite still recovering from her last combat that was barely a week ago. Her body ached everywhere. And she was exhausted to the bone.

The Hungarian had been specific about tonight's fight when he had visited her the day before—she was only supposed to knock her opponent unconscious, not kill him. He said it was going to be a great spectacle, a fight against an opponent he had called his _pet_. Hermione still had no idea what was coming through the doors every moment now; she just hoped it would be a short fight for both their sakes.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, please welcome a specially requested fighter for tonight's main fight! Tonight, the Vicious Harpy will fight against the famous Claw–”

The cheering from the attending audience above completely drowned the rest of the announcement, but Hermione understood that she wasn't the favourite tonight. She was close to vomiting now, as the noise as well as the stench of blood and sweat in the magically expanded pit were overwhelming her senses; her stomach was already clenching, and she had to swallow hard several times to keep the control.

“May I present The Claw!”

The entrance to the pit was finally opened, and Hermione stiffened, apprehensive of her opponent. To her surprise, a barely clad man walked in. His body was strewn with scars from other fights, and he was slightly limping. She didn't think he was scary until she saw what kind of creature he turned into.

A man-sized golden eagle.

She was supposed to fight an eagle, to knock him unconscious.

She was fucked.

Still trying to assess the situation, Hermione ducked away from the first attack of her opponent; his sharp claws only barely missed her shoulders. There was no way she could win this fight with only her physical strength; she would have to resort to other measures this time as well.

Her opponent was fluttering just above her, sizing her up. His sheer size made her feel helpless for a moment. Even a normal-sized eagle had impressive claws and beak, but this one was just... yes, scary—the sheer size of it. But he looked like he was challenging her to come up in the air as well.

He was asking her to fly, to fight him in the air.

She was fucked.

In all those years of trying to control her creature, to keep it hidden from everyone else, she had never before attempted to actually fly. She'd rather fight him on the ground, but he didn't look like he was doing her the favour.

Flying scared her—it meant she had to give her creature more control over her body than she wanted to. It was raging inside her; her skin was crawling with its insistence to take over. It was thirsting for blood, for another kill. Seeing no other option, Hermione closed her eyes momentarily and let go of her mental barriers, giving her creature free reign over her body.

Moments later, and to the audience's astonishment, she was in the air, screeching loudly before attacking the eagle for the first time. She went straight for his underside with the talons on her feet, hoping to hit him severely enough.

However, he caught her before she could do any damage, his claws locking with hers. He was forcing her into a downward spiral.

Hermione wasn't having any of that; she wasn't an eagle, she was a goddamn harpy—and they fought dirty. With her free foot, she kicked him as hard as she could while she reached for his neck with her winged arms.

The eagle screeched in pain when she drove the talons into his shoulders, causing them to fall freely for a moment. He let go of her to catch himself, and she landed on the ground to catch her breath.

What was the weak spot of any bird? The wings? Hermione had to figure it out soon if she wanted to stay alive.

They played the spiralling game for several rounds, with her attacking his shoulders each time, causing more and more damage while he used his claws to attack her legs. His feathers were already showing the first signs of him bleeding out of several wounds; her legs look no better, but it was mostly scratches. The sight of blood only made Hermione's harpy more aggressive, its thirst pounding hard in her veins, driving out all other thoughts. She had to bring it down, no matter how.

She almost did it after another round of spiralling and screeched in angry disappointment when the golden eagle managed to avoid a hard landing. There had to be another way to bring him down! That was the moment when Hermione regained some of the control over her body. Violence alone wouldn't help them survive.

“Stupefy!”

The crowd above gasped loudly at her use of magic, followed by whistles and jeering, as the fighters usually couldn't do magic without any wand or similar. And she didn't even hit him with her first attempt, enraging her own creature to the point of having to struggle to keep her control for another attempt.

The eagle screeched, an angry dare to join him again for another round.

Hermione lost the struggle, and the harpy took over once more. She immediately joined the eagle in the air, locking her claws with his for another round of spiralling down. Mid-air, Hermione regained control once more, aiming at the eagle while still twirling downwards. This time, the Stunning Spell hit the eagle full force. They landed rather roughly on the ground, as he was momentarily stunned, but not knocked unconscious.

Shaking his head, the eagle made it back on his feet, staring at her in outrage. It seemed that he never had to deal with an opponent able to use wandless magic before. With a screech, he attacked her with his claws.

Panting heavily, she stepped backwards to get out of his reach. Now that he was on the ground, how could she knock him out? Her creature was screaming for a kill, its rage still throbbing loudly in her head. But instead of giving in, she repeated the Stunning Spell, aiming for the eagle's chest.

He was knocked back into the next wall, but as enraged as he was, he immediately got back up and chased after her. Whenever she hit him with another Stupefy, he chased her harder through the pit.

The pursuit was wearing them both down until her last Stupefy aimed at the eagle finally did what it was supposed to do—knock him out.

But the knock-out didn't feel like a win to Hermione. Still breathing heavily, she watched his form change back into the man he actually was. Her head pounding from the adrenaline still cruising through her body, she kneeled down beside him.

He looked broken. Like an empty shell of his former self. She remembered what The Hungarian had said—she would fight against his _pet_. A shiver ran down her spine when she pictured what that would entail... If his treatment of her—his threat to break her—was any indication of what he was capable of, then this man was better off dead.

The audience was cheering in the ranks above, but she didn't pay them any attention. Instead, she placed the tips of her talons on his chest. He was going to haunt her for the rest of her life, but she had to do this. She simply had to.

“I'm sorry,” she whispered and drove her talons right into his heart.

* * *

 

When Hermione woke up next, she found herself in the office of The Hungarian, not her cell with a pot of Healing Potion on the table. She was lying on the floor, and her body felt stiff from overexertion while a headache was threatening at the back of her head. Based on the boots she could see from her vantage point without moving, there were at least three guards around her.

They were waiting for her to wake up.

In the back, she could hear foreign words being muttered, sounding angry, following steps that paced from one side of the room to the other and back. This wasn't over yet.

“Prod her again,” The Hungarian said, pausing momentarily in his pacing.

Hermione let out a small pained yelp when one of the guards prodded her with his wand. They had heard her, because next thing, she was roughly pulled up; she winced when she got to stand on her feet: her legs almost gave in, too weak from the fight.

“Do you think this is a game?” The Hungarian came over to her, again muttering in his language, probably even cursing her. “You were instructed to knock him unconscious!”

“What's he to you? He was a human being, not a _pet_ ,” she retorted but regretted her words as soon as she had said them. The guard holding her arm tight turned it on her back while another pulled her hair, his wand pointed at her neck.

“Your obstinacy is disgusting, filthy bird...”

“I survived a war.” Her words came out with a gurgling noise, as her head was forced back, and the wand wasn't helping either. “Sometimes, death was more merciful than living.”

“Killing a Turul is a sacrilege!” The Hungarian shouted at her. “You will be punished!”

The guard gripping her hair roughly pulled at it, and she cried out in pain. May the punishment be dished out—she was ready for it. No one could ever beat what Bellatrix had done to her all those years ago. No Punishment Curse, no assault, nothing. And death was by now better than living in this hell.

Her head still pulled back by the guard, the Hungarian reached for her throat. “You have no idea how long it took me to track such a creature down—who could turn into the mythical bird of my country.”

“A golden eagle–” The rest of her words choked in her throat when he tightened his grip around her neck.

“ _A Turul_ is no ordinary eagle,” he spat. “But what do you understand?”

Letting go of her neck, he traced his fingers down her collarbone, brushing over one of her many cuts, further down into dangerous territory. “I wonder whether your skin remains as soft when I'm through with you...”

Closing her eyes, Hermione willed herself to remain still, even though her mind followed the trace of his fingers along her collarbone and shoulder, pulling the strap of her top she had been provided with further down; it had been torn in places. Her creature was screaming for control, protesting against the treatment. It took all her mental strength to keep the control, yet she could still feel the anger throb in her veins, and the skin crawl with her creature's wish to get to the surface. Maybe they would kill her then?

“I want to hear you scream,” he whispered, a creepy appreciative tone to his voice.

Hermione expected to be hit with the Punishment Curse, so it didn't take her by complete surprise. Yet, the pain seared through her body like a bolt of electricity searching for an outlet—her muscles tensed up, and her brain felt like it was being fried. But she didn't scream.

“Again,” The Hungarian ordered when she was released from the Curse, only standing because the guards kept her up. “I will hear you scream tonight because _my pets_ do as I say. Understand, my filthy little bird?”

Hermione's answer was lost in a gurgle when the next Curse hit her. This time, the intense pain overran everything else. For a moment, nothing else existed inside her, only pain. When it receded, she returned to a completely tensed body, her jaws clenching hard, and her hands digging into whatever they had been able to grab.

Someone was screaming, but it wasn't her.

The screaming stopped moments later when one of the guards grabbed her other hand to pull it on her back.

Wiggling her hand to get out of the tight grip, she realised that her talons had reappeared. She must have pushed them into one of the guards who were holding her when the pain from the Curse had taken over; she could feel blood on it.

“Let go of her, you idiots! Looks like I need to do this myself...”

Fearing the anger audible in The Hungarian's voice, all three guards let go of her and took a step back; one of them was pressing a hand against an open wound to stop the bleeding.

Hermione swayed dangerously without the guards holding her up. In addition, she was on the brink of falling unconscious again, as the fight and the Punishment Curse were taking their toll on her. The next one would definitely knock her out...

“Leave.”

The guards left without another word, but they all either threw a dirty glance at Hermione or pushed into her, causing her to lose balance.

She caught herself just moments before she would have landed on the floor. Her body was burning, and all she wanted was to lie down and let unconsciousness take over until this nightmare ended. However, now that she was alone, she knew that The Hungarian wouldn't hold back any longer. The worst was yet to come.

A dangerous glint in his eyes, The Hungarian played with his wand. “This time, you will learn the lesson, filthy bird. And you will scream for me...”

“You like to inflict pain,” she replied, coughing as her throat felt hot and dry. She was sure that he got a sadistic satisfaction from torturing others. And she was his new plaything, his new pet to replace the one she just killed.

“It's not about the pain.” He stepped closer, the glint in his eyes only growing more dangerous; he was now only inches away from her. “It's about showing who's the master here, don't you get it?”

"Don't you dare touch me," she said, holding his gaze while she pushed away the wand that he had pressed into the skin on her stomach. However, a shiver ran down her spine when she saw the dangerously dark glint in his eyes. "You're not my master–"

"You're my pet, and you will do as I say." His order ended in a growl before he aimed his wand at her hands.

"Let me go!" she cried out when her hands were tied behind her back, leaving her defenceless.

"Scream for me!"

And she was hit with another Curse. She was almost welcoming the pain, as it drove out everything else, slowly becoming an old acquaintance.

She was on the floor when the pain stopped, panting heavily and struggling to cling to her consciousness. "I see, you're getting used to the Curse." His words sounded disappointed as he levitated her back into a standing position, not caring that she swayed dangerously.

She winced as her scarred leg hurt whenever she put her weight on it to keep her balance. "I've survived worse."

"They all say that," he replied, tilting her chin up with his wand so that she was forced to look at him. "You're even more stubborn than my last pet..."

"I'm not a pet, I'm a human being." Despite the scarily sadistic look in his eyes, she didn't back down from his gaze. Meanwhile, she tried to loosen the tight grip of the Incarcerous on her wrists, but to no avail—the spell wasn't the same as a simple rope.

"How many times do I have to repeat it? You're just a filthy Creature, a useless filthy bird."

"Why don't you just kill me if you find me useless?" His words were bringing her Creature to the boiling point, and her mental barrier was wearing thin from the exertion and repeated use of the Curse—she could feel her skin crawl with the threat of transforming into the Creature form.

“Where's the fun in that, little bird?” Grabbing her hair, he pulled her head back. “You killed my old pet, and I like to play...”

“You have lost your mind.”

"I have something else that you might like. A spell I haven't used in a while..." With that, he aimed his wand at her with a malicious smirk before he murmured an unknown incantation.

She was knocked backwards, feeling as if she was set on fire, burning alive. If the Curse was an all-consuming pain whenever she was hit with it, then this new spell was a whole new level.

When the pain finally stopped, she heard someone scream. Only when she fully regained consciousness, she realised it was her screaming her lungs out.

“Your friends will never find you, my little bird; you're all mine.”

"I belong to no one." She pressed those words out while panting heavily; her skin was still prickling painfully from the burning sensation. "And my friends will find me..."

"They don't even know in which pit I keep you," he replied with a spiteful laugh. With a wave of his wand, he brought her back into a standing position; however, he had to repeat it as she was unable to keep upright on her own. "Although, one of them was clever enough to enter one undercover, but that's as close as they will get. We have our means to distract them. You are mine."

They were coming for her! They haven't given up!

With an odd sense of relief, Hermione clung to those words because they gave her new hope of making it out of this hell alive. When the next cast spell hit her, she welcomed the unconsciousness with open arms, letting herself fall into the darkness, not caring whether she screamed again or not.

They were coming for her! She wasn't lost!


	17. Yes, it's not enough

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's mostly a filler chapter to keep the pace steady—however, the scene at the end sets everything in motion for the next two chapters. :)
> 
> Besides that, if I keep the schedule as it is with a chapter every fortnight, there would be a chapter update on Christmas Eve. I might try to post that specific chapter a couple of days earlier, so that everyone following has the chance to read it before the chaos of the holidays.
> 
> And last, but not least—a big hug to my beta _luunascope_ who was so kind to read through this chapter and another one-shot that I've written for a fest. You're a sweetheart for finding the time to comb through my writings... :-*  
>  And of course, many many thanks to everyone listening to my doubts and ramblings in the various chats, I love you all, guys! You are all great!

As patient as he otherwise was, Draco grew restless waiting the day after the first interrogation of Riverside. He was exhausted beyond anything else, yet he knew he could sleep properly again only after they had found Hermione—they were so goddamn close, he could feel it! However, Harry wanted to use the day after to gain more information from Riverside, using the Veritaserum this time and weeding out further leaks in his teams.

It forced Draco to stand still. To wait.

He hated it.

“Malfoy, please, let me do my job,” Harry said with a deep sigh when Draco marched into his office on Wednesday morning. “I know you want to do something–”

“We're _this_ close; of course I want to do something!” With a resigned huff, he let himself fall into the visitor chair. “Has Riverside said anything yet? Anything that we could use?”

Harry shook his head, his lips pressed into a thin line. “Not enough to know where she is, sorry.”

“We don't have forever. Let me have a word with him.”

“You had your chance.” Harry pulled his glasses off and leaned back to clean them. “Ron is handling the interrogation with Theo... You were right, we're both too affected.”

“He deserves to be put in such a fight pit,” Draco said, not even bothering to hide his sneer. With another sigh, he got up again. “Better find something soon–”

“No solo tours, Malfoy!”

“I won't promise anything. Not if there's a chance to get her back alive.”

“Malfoy, please.” Harry put his glasses back on and got to his feet as well to follow Draco out. “Why do we have to discuss our deal every time you're in? You agreed to work WITH me, not against me–”

“Because you take too much time to find her?” Draco stopped when he was on the floor with the open desks. “Do you know by now where that other pit is?”

“Not yet, but it's only a question of time–”

“That we probably don't have!” With that, Draco left the Auror Department, feeling even more frustrated than before. If only Potter would let him have another go with Riverside! That piece of scum knew everything!

* * *

 

As he had to pay a visit to Gringotts, Draco mindlessly paced through the throngs of wizarding folk in Diagon Alley, scowling at a few people daring to be too slow to get out of his way. He only stopped when he almost crashed into a redhead who wouldn't move.

“You look bad,” Ginny said with a sympathetic smile, greeting him with a brief wave of her hand.

“I'm fine.” Draco made a step to the side to pass her, but she just blocked his way again, her eyes narrowed slightly.

“You're not. I still know that face.”

He threw his head back. There was no escaping the Potters today it seemed. “Your husband is wasting time.”

“I know.” She reached for his elbow and hooked in. “Whatever you have planned this morning, it can wait.”

“Ginny!” Surprised at her move, he tried to pry her fingers off his upper arm but had no chance against her iron grip. “I'm not in the mood to–”

“When was the last time you talked to someone?”

“I just talked to your husband–”

“Doesn't count. You two never agree on anything.” She pulled him towards what looked like one of those newly opened places to have a drink. “I've got a bit of time.”

With a deep sigh, he gave up his resistance and let her drag him inside, straight to the back. Seated against the wall, he leaned back and observed the room to avoid her—a lot of dark wood, warmed by dimmed lights and a fireplace; the tables were far enough apart for privacy and he had seen a counter with barstools facing out of a big window when he was pulled inside. It was sophisticated enough for him to like the atmosphere.

“Why?” he finally asked, his eyes still roaming through the room.

Ginny shrugged and sat down opposite him. “Harry and I talk about Hermione, and of course your involvement too, when he does make it back home late in the evening. Plus Ron told me a few things about what Pansy told him about what's happening in the company.”

“All of a sudden, everybody cares about me.”

“You chose to stay away, Draco.”

Her words made him look at her; her words brought back memories of a birthday party at the Burrow they had invited him to, only to turn around to leave before they saw him because _she_ was there as well. Losing _her_ was hard enough, but he had also lost family and friends over it. “Wasn't a choice.”

The waitress interrupted the moment with her arrival their table. “What can I bring you?”

Draco studied the young witch, glad for the momentary distraction. Compared to the red-headed devil in front of him, she looked pretty average but had a nice enough smile. “A triple of your best Firewhisky.”

“Sir? That's a very expensive bottle–”

“Do I look like I care about the money?” he retorted, leaning forward with a brief scowl on his face.

“Just a tea for me, _please_ ,” Ginny said with a sweet voice but sending a glare in his direction until the waitress was gone again. “I forgot you can be a total arse.”

“And you're nosy.”

“I have children,” she replied with a shrug and crossed her arms. “Now, tell me, how are you doing? And no evasive _I'm fine_ this time.”

Leaning back once more, Draco just glared at her. She reminded him of Astoria with her pertinence about his well-being, albeit with a difference—Astoria was a lot more overbearing. “I just want to find her already.”

She smiled softly at his sighed admission. “I know. Harry's the same.”

“And yet, he just _wastes_ time.”

“I know you don't like it, but he does everything he can,” Ginny said with another of her soft smiles, ignoring his jab. “You know, when he finally made it home yesterday, he was raving about the Fidelius Charm.”

His arms crossed, Draco just kept staring at her. Potter probably had had an epiphany—a rare event in itself!

“He wouldn't come to bed until we managed it. I think you owe me a decent night's sleep...”

He shrugged. “Sorry about that.”

Their drinks arrived, and they both silently waited until the waitress placed them on the table.

Ginny carefully circled the spoon repeatedly in her cup before putting it down on the side. “What happens after you found her? What are you going to say to her? Have you thought about that?”

Oh, he had thought a lot about that during his recent sleepless nights, imagining how it would feel to finally tell her about what she had done to him. Yet, he still didn't know what to say to her, just like the first time after the War he tried to talk to her.

xxx

_It had been after another intensive session with his therapist, discussing his most recent nightmares that had brought back that sense of helplessness and guilt he had experienced in the War._

“ _See you next week, Dr Pendry,” he said as he left the therapist's office, only to stop in his tracks when he saw who was sitting in the small waiting area._

_Granger._

_She didn't notice him at first, just stowed the book she had been reading back into her bag and got up to enter the office for her session. However, she froze mid-move when she recognised him, and her lips turned into a thin white line. “Malfoy.”_

“ _Hello,” he replied with a nod. After a second of staring at each other, unsure of how to react, he sighed. This was as good as any other moment. “Granger, this is... this is something I wanted to tell you for a while now. I know it's not enough coming from me, but I just wanted to apologise for what I did–”_

“ _Yes, it's not enough.” She crossed her arms, her eyes narrowed ever so slightly; she sounded hurt._

_He let her pass, trying to keep his disappointment under control. He had said what he wanted to say, everything else was just hoping against all hope; his therapist had said the same, but still urged him to apologise in order to be able to let go and look forward._

_He had already turned around after waiting a long minute in the ante-room when the door to the therapist's office was opened once more, making him stop in his tracks and his heart beating slightly faster in nervousness._

“ _Can you wait an hour?” Hermione asked with the briefest of smiles that didn't reach her eyes._

_Of_ _course_ _he could._

_And that was how their fairy tale had started._

xxx

Draco nursed his triple Firewhisky while lingering in the memory of that fateful meeting. It was so long ago, yet he still remembered everything about it—the first, and understandable, rejection of his attempt at an apology, her hurt, and her willingness to hear him out. He never asked her for her forgiveness, yet she had still forgiven him in the end. What followed had been the best years of his life.

“You're scared.”

He shot Ginny a side-glance before taking a sip from his tumbler. “I just want it to be over with already.”

* * *

 

 

Draco arrived back home shortly after lunchtime, sighing in relief before he noticed the nervous house-elf in front of him who tried to get his attention as discreetly as possible. “Yes, Tibby?”

“Master has a visitor. His mother has arrived an hour ago,” the house-elf said, fidgeting with his hands. “Tibby showed her to the living room.”

Letting his mother wait for an hour never bode well for her mood, even though she hadn't announced her visit to make sure he was home to meet her. After a deep breath to brace himself, he took his coat off to hand it to the elf before he put on his most charming smile to walk over to the living room to face his mother.

“Does Master need anything else?”

He shook his head and entered the living room, ready to face his mother. The room, however, was empty. “Tibby?”

“Yes, Master?”

“You said you showed her to the living room?”

The house-elf peeked through the door. “But Tibby did show her here!”

Draco wanted to retort to the house-elf's exclamation when he heard a noise coming from one of the other rooms.

The spare room.

Rolling his eyes, he turned around to walk down to the one room plastered with sheets from Hermione's files. The room with his most comfortable chair in it. The room he still spent a lot of time in when he was home.

And there she was—graceful as ever while she read all his small notes posted to the wall next to or on top of the sheets, shaking her head repeatedly.

Leaning against the door frame, he made himself known with a cough, curling his lips into a charming smile when she turned her head around to look at him. “Hello, Mother.”

“Hello, Draco. I was surprised to hear that you were out when I arrived.”

“Well, here I am.”

“Here you are,” she said with a nod, turning around to face him fully. “You haven't responded to my owl, so I was worried. And what I see in here–”

“Those are Hermione's files–”

“Draco, no. This is you obsessing all over!” she interrupted him sternly, circling her hand in the air. Keeping her eyes on him, she Summoned the Daily Prophet that was placed on the small table until now and unfolded it to show the front page. “Do you think I can just ignore headlines like this?”

_DRACO MALFOY — ANOTHER BREAKDOWN?_

“I haven't had the chance to read the paper yet today,” he said, stretching out his hand so that she could hand it to him. “You know that Blaise insisted on having it delivered to the company.”

She shook her head, instead held the newspaper up in front of herself. “Here it is... ' _It might be safe to assume that Ms Granger's recent disappearance played a part in Mr Malfoy's decision to step back as President of his company. Upon request for a statement, we only received a written reply stating a_ need for a time-out _. The same was said the last time Ms Granger left the country, although rumours of that time indicated that the company tried to cover up a breakdown of Mr Malfoy–_ ”

“It's not the same this time.” He had heard enough, so he came up to her and grabbed the newspaper from her hands. A quick look showed that it was written by the same reporter who had bothered him with a request for an interview a couple of weeks ago; Morris Kerr was his name and, like everyone else, interested in gossip. The article was close to slander, something he might want to discuss with Pansy.

“Not the same? You show the same signs like back then—you only care about _her_ , neglect everything else, you don't sleep, Tibby told me you don't eat enough, and you drink more. And from what Astoria told me, you're being a total arse to everyone. The only thing that is missing this time is you losing it–”

“Mother, I'm fine! I told you at Blaise's dinner that I want answers.” He threw the newspaper back towards the small table, though it landed on the armchair. “And I'll get them!”

“Draco, the last time you obsessed over _her_ like that, we had to deliver you to the mental ward at St.  Mungo's. That's where you'll end again if you continue like that–”

“I won't,” he said with a warning tone to his voice. “We are close enough to find her; I'm not giving up now.”

“You lost your mind!” She turned away in frustration, walking over to the armchair to pick the newspaper up once more. “That article even mentions rumours about you visiting clubs and behaving not like a self-respecting Malfoy should. That is no healthy coping mechanism, and you know that!”

“That was an undercover mission–”

“You want me to believe that?”

Now it was Draco who huffed in frustration and turned away, towards the door to leave the room. “Ask Potter. I'm done.”

“We're not done!” Narcissa followed him into the corridor. “Draco, you're basically forcing me into drastic steps–”

“What do you mean?” He turned around, his hands balled into fists to keep himself from drawing his wand.

“Declaring you to be of _unsound mind_.” Her voice was threateningly cool.

“I am _fine_ ,” he retorted through gritted teeth, enraged by her words. “Tibby?”

The house-elf appeared before Narcissa could reply; the Creature was shocked to find them arguing. “Yes, Master?”

“Would you please be so kind to escort my mother out?” he said without lifting his eyes from his mother, watching her stiffen in response.

“Mistress?”

“Fine,” Narcissa spat out. “You leave me no choice.”

It was only a small sense of relief when Draco watched his mother leave his place through the fireplace, with a disappointed glare glued to him before the green flames of the Floo Network swallowed her. He knew that it hadn't been an empty threat; his mother was fully capable to have him at least checked out for mental problems, given his previous breakdown.

He needed a drink.

* * *

 

“I knew you'd be here.”

Draco looked up from the Firewhisky he had been nursing for over an hour now, only to groan when he saw Blaise and Potter on the other side of the table he had claimed for himself.

“I'm fine, thanks for asking. And the company is doing well,” Blaise said in mock politeness, his voice dripping with sarcasm. However, he willingly ignored Draco's glare and sat down, not bothering to take off his coat.

“What are you doing here?” Draco leaned back against the wall, crossing his arms. So much for simply brooding over a tumbler or two of his favourite drink.

“I was looking for you,” Harry replied dryly and took the seat next to Blaise, his coat opened. “And he knew where you might be.”

“Making sure I'm not going off on a _solo tour_ , I guess.” Keeping an eye on his two unwelcome table guests, Draco took a sip from his tumbler.

“Well, that's my part,” Blaise retorted and then waved discreetly for the waiter. “Harry wanted to talk to you about some sort of plan; I'm just here to make sure it's not something dangerously stupid.”

Harry shot Blaise a quick glare. “It's not quite a plan, okay? I just know you're up to something.”

“I'm just having a drink. Frustrating day and stuff.”

“I know you weren't happy when you left my office earlier today–”

“You don't get it, Potter. I wasn't just _not_ _happy_ about it. I know a way to get the information we need and you won't let me do it my way. _Hermione_ is missing, for fuck's sake! We should do _everything_ we can to find her... I remember a time when you didn't care so much about adhering to rules to save the day.” He emptied his tumbler and put it back down on the table with a loud _thwack_. “Back then, you'd have broken every rule you could think of to save her.”

“Times have changed.”

“Not when it comes to her.” Draco shot Harry a dirty glare, swaying the empty tumbler in his hands. “And I'm not insane for sticking to my words.”

“Insane?” Blaise asked, trying to keep the surprise in his voice in check as the waiter arrived to take his order. “Potter, a Firewhisky? On my tab?”

Harry nodded, his eyes glued on Draco who was pointing to his empty tumbler to indicate that he'd like to have a refill.

“So, three Firewhiskies it is–”

“Two,” Blaise corrected. “Mr Malfoy has had enough alcohol for today. Bring him whatever non-alcoholic drink you have.”

“ _Three_ Firewhiskies if you want a tip,” Draco retorted.

“ _Two_ if you want us to consider you for our Christmas dinner.”

The waiter sighed barely audible. “I'll come back in a few minutes for your order.”

“I don't need everyone to treat me like a child,” Draco let out in an angry hiss, leaning forward. “It was enough that my own mother threatened to have me delivered to the mental ward.”

“She did?” Now Blaise sounded indeed surprised, letting out a small astonished whistle.

“Yes. Looks like you can visit me there soon. So let me have my bloody drink, will you?”

“Mate, I get her—she's your mother and is allowed to worry about you, okay?” Blaise leaned back, running his hands over the front of his coat. “I'll talk to her.”

Draco stared at Blaise for a long moment, still swaying his empty tumbler between his fingers. “Thanks.”

“I expect a raise for dealing with your shit when you come back,” Blaise said with a wink and then waved for the waiter again. “Now, let's discuss that idea of yours... Have you had something to eat yet, mate?”

“Nothing for me,” Harry said, having watched the argument between the other two in silence. “I need to get back to the Department soon; we're not finished with the staff checks. But I'll still have that Firewhisky if you don't mind.”

“You pay.” Draco relaxed once more in his seat, as his mother's threat weighed a little less on his mind, thankful for Blaise to deal with it. Hermione would have stormed to his mother's place within an instant of him telling her, ready to give his mother a few choice words about meddling in her son's life so much. But then, if she hadn't left him, he wouldn't be in this place at all. For Merlin's sake, he wished they had found her already! He wanted to her be safe, freed from whatever hell she must be in!

Harry waited until the waiter had left the table again with their orders before he started explaining his idea. “I've had a discussion with Ron, and we both think we should try and get inside the one fight club you've been to once more; I'm sure that the woman you met there–”

“The succubus,” Draco corrected, listening intently because it sounded very much like what he intended to do anyway. “Go on.”

“I'm pretty sure she knows where the other pit is where they keep Hermione. Or someone else there does...”

When the ordered food arrived, the three men were deep in discussion about the different options and their success rates.

* * *

 

It was already dark outside when Draco made it out of the restaurant. He and Blaise had discussed company matters after Potter had left to get back to the Auror Department. It was refreshingly cold outside, the soft wind instantly clearing his head while he waited for his friend to pay the dinner bill.

Diagon Alley was still busy, but the shops were closing now, so most people carrying bags were heading home. The air smelled like everyone had started to heat up their fireplaces; it was one of his favourite smells, reminding him of a warm place he once had too—warmed by the presence of _her_.

In his head, Draco was going through the next steps of Potter's plan, so he wasn't paying too much attention to his surroundings—it was basically what he had intended anyway, going back to that fight club.

That was why he didn't see the spell coming that knocked him to the ground.

His head only barely missed the wall behind him, but the landing on the ground was still rough enough; his back made a cracking sound.

Without thinking twice, he had his wand ready to defend himself, hastily checking the street to find who had just attacked him.

The next spell sent him into the closest side alley, although he tried to stop it.

He ended up in an area just outside the lights of Diagon Alley, probably one of the delivery alleys that lead to a backyard or similar. Irritated about the incident, Draco made it up to his feet, still gripping his wand tightly. He tried to see if there was someone hiding in the darker areas, as he thought he saw something move. “Who is this?”

He had been right, something had moved in the shadows—a group of menacing-looking men, bigger and probably stronger than he was. They were here for him. “ _The Organisation_ sends their regards,” the leader of the group said, letting a malicious laughter follow.

Draco understood—it was another warning to stop meddling, after the dead owl in his office failed to have the intended effect. However, facing four opponents meant he was in for a rather rough round if Blaise didn't come out in a matter of moments.

The four hit men had circled him, wherever he turned there was one of them standing, and only a set of quickly cast _Protegos_ kept the  worst off him. Draco had no chance to start an attack himself, as he wouldn't even know which one he should hit, or which spell would render them unconscious with only one aim.

And then he was too slow, all he could do was watching his wand fly from his hand and into the air to fall down somewhere behind them.

He was fucked.

“We'd like to make sure you get the message,” the group leader said, nodding briefly. “Grab him.”

Draco tried his best to keep them off him, but he didn't have a chance against the two hit men holding him in a tight grip. And they preferred to deliver messages in an unrefined, hands-on way.

The first punch was delivered to his stomach, pushing the air out of his lungs. The second punch hit his jaw, making him see stars for a second. After that, he lost count of the punches, only tried to keep conscious long enough until Blaise would find him.

He only screamed in pain when he was hit with another spell, running through his body like electricity, tensing every single muscle in his body and setting his brain on fire.

“Just a reminder that you shouldn't meddle with _The Organisation_ if you want to stay alive.” With that, the hit men finally let go of him and disappeared once more into the shadows, having delivered their message.

Dizzy and completely disoriented, Draco lost his balance and fell back to the ground, groaning loudly in pain.

“Oh, for fuck's sake! What happened? I couldn't find you!”

Draco never thought he'd be this happy to hear Blaise's voice coming closer. His body hurt everywhere, and he was sure he'd broken a rib or two. He wanted to say something, but his jaw hurt when he tried to open it, so he only gave Blaise the thumbs-up sign.

“Oh no, you're not okay. There's no point in arguing! Off to St. Mungo's with you...”

“Home,” Draco managed to mumble. He wasn't going to get admitted to the hospital for a couple of scratches and bruises that he could treat himself with Tibby's help.

“You do as I say or I let your mother admit you to the mental ward, understood?” Blaise shook his head. “Where's your wand?”

Draco managed to point in the general area of where he thought his wand had landed earlier. Fuck, his ribs hurt!

“You should just have Apparated out, you know?” Blaise sighed and Summoned Draco's wand before he proceeded to pick him up as carefully as he could. A second later, he Apparated them straight into the emergency ward of St. Mungo's.


	18. Take Me There

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaah! I almost forgot that I planned to update today. *blames tumblr*
> 
> Anyway, the rescue is at hand, at least the first part of it. And Draco remains as stubborn as ever when it comes to finding Hermione.
> 
> Least, but definitely not last: a big thank you to _luunascope_ for beta reading the chapter, and have me think a bit about her suggestions! :-*  
>  And a big thank you to _Debbie_ and everyone else for answering my questions as well as listening to my doubts and ramblings! Love you, girls!

Draco woke up the next morning to a slightly throbbing head and a dry throat. At first, he didn't recognise the room he was in—so much cold white, not like the warm wooden tones he had decorated his own bedroom with. There was a numb pain in his side, turning into a sharp one when he tried to move too rapidly. “Fuck.”

“You're awake.”

Startled, Draco turned his head towards the female voice coming from the corner of the room—it was Astoria, and she looked worn out, yet a small relieved smile softened her face. “Where am I?”

“St. Mungo's,” she replied, her lips briefly turning into a thin line.

“Where's...?”

“Blaise? I sent him home to get some sleep.” She inhaled, biting the inside of her lower lip. “He told me that he found you in a side alley beaten to a pulp.”

He tried to shift into a half-sitting position to have a better look at her. The details of the previous night were a bit hazy, but it was all coming back to him—the first unexpected hit with a spell that knocked him off his feet, and then the hitmen ganging up on him. “It was just a little fight.”

“Draco, please.” She sat up, narrowing her eyes ever so slightly. “You had a severely swollen jaw, several broken ribs, I think they mentioned signs of a dislocated shoulder, and they kept you here because you were bleeding internally as your liver seemed injured as well.”

He could hear the worry in her tone, and he could feel a small pang of guilt in his heart. Sighing, he rubbed his face and then brushed the hair out of his eyes. “I don't remember being treated.”

“Healer Thompson had you put under because you fought them. I could hear you yell at them outside the treatment ward, for Heaven's sake!” Her voice took a sharper tone, and she got up to pace next to his bed. “What in Merlin's seven hells were you thinking?”

“Hey, I didn't do anything. I had dinner with Blaise, remember?”

“The hell you did!”

He shrunk back from her brief outburst, as her raised voice only made his head throb harder.

She huffed at his lack of reply, but then brushed her fingers through some strands of hair on the side of her head, trying to calm down. “Draco, you scared the shit out of me, okay? Imagine the shock when Blaise told me to come to the hospital...”

“I'm sorry–”

“No need to pretend. I know you're not.” She shook her head and then sat down on the edge of his bed. “You're one of my closest friends, and I'm scared for you. I know that finding _her_ alive means everything to you, but I'm scared that it might not turn out the way you hope for.”

He took a deep breath but immediately regretted it as a sharp pain shot through his side; he did notice her brief smirk in response to his pained gasp. He could definitely do with a dose of whatever pain potion they had about now, as his body was sore all over and breathing in too deep was simply painful. “I... I just want answers, Astoria.”

“You keep saying that,” she said softly, “but I don't think that's what your heart hopes for.”

Draco didn't know what to reply to her words, so he just shifted his position, avoiding her gaze for a moment. Eight years of longing for her to come back, eight years of pining from afar, and yet he didn't know any longer what he wanted, or whether he could trust his heart at all. It was a treacherous thing after all.

“I watched you break down once, and it was terrible. The day we had to admit you to the mental ward is still one of the worst in my life. I don't want to go through that again, just because you have your hopes crushed once more.” She reached for his hand to lay hers on top of it. “Eight years is enough. I just want to see you happy, maybe even get settled with someone who can make you smile again, someone who takes care of you. You deserve _that_. I miss the old, happy you. Honestly.”

“I miss it too,” he admitted quietly. “I barely remember what it feels like.”

“I know.” She squeezed his hand. “You know I don't like that you got involved in all this—they beat you up after all!—but please don't think I won't support you, okay? I'll do whatever you need me to when it comes to the company–”

A knock was heard from the door, and then it was opened slowly.

Draco let out a small sigh when he saw Harry come in, showing an unsure smile. He had hoped for the Healer to check on him so that he could ask for some pain potion and some water for his throat.

“Glad to see you awake,” Harry said, still standing in the door. “I only heard about your incident this morning.”

Behind him, another person tried to get inside, eventually pushing him further inside and then the tell-tale red hair was in sight. It was Ginny. “Merlin, you look bad.”

“I'll go find a Healer.” Astoria climbed off the bed and turned towards the door, throwing Harry an annoyed glance before she passed him.

“She's still pissed?”

Draco shook his head; he was watching Ginny who by now was leaning against the edge of his bed right at the footrest, while Harry pulled the chair closer. “What are you doing here?”

“You're part of my team, so I wanted to check on you.”

“Your empathy is touching.”

“You're an idiot, Draco,” Ginny retorted. “We never stopped caring... And from what I heard, you were goddamn lucky!”

“I'm fine. And I'm not going to stop now.” Draco groaned as the throbbing in his head increased.

Harry leaned forward, a stern look on his face. “You're in hospital if you haven't noticed yet. Standard procedure for my people is that they are excluded from further field actions until they fully recover and pass the last medical exam.”

“I'm not one of _your people_.”

“I know.” Harry ran his hand through his mess of hair. “What I'm trying to say is–”

“No.” Draco sat up, ignoring the brief stabbing pain in his side from the sudden move. “They didn't try to kill me, it was a message. Don't even dare to tell me that I'm supposed to take a step back _now_.”

“Let Harry and Ron do their job–”

“No.” Draco glared at Ginny for her nerve to intervene. “I don't care about the message. All I know is that they are nervous. That means we are closer than they want us to. So, don't tell me to take a step back and watch you fuck it up.”

“We won't... oh, fuck it.” With a huff, Harry leaned back, crossing his arms.

Ginny looked from one wizard to the other and then sighed. “You two, really.”

Draco ignored her intervention; instead, he kept his eyes locked on Harry who was glaring straight back. “As soon as I get released, I will do what we planned.”

“Harry, don't,” she stopped her husband with a shake of her head when he opened his mouth to reply. “He's not one of your Aurors. And Merlin knows he won't stop. This way, you still have some control.”

Harry let his head briefly fall back and sighed in resignation. “Fine. But you'll have a tracker on you, and you'll wear a protective vest. Plus—and I _insist_ on that!—you will let me talk to her first to let her know about our arrangement because, believe me, she won't like it.”

“I hope so.”

To Draco's relief, the door to his ward opened again; Astoria entered, followed by a Healer who immediately put on a professional smile when she saw him awake. The shoulder stripes on her hospital gear indicated that she was the Healer-in-Charge.

Harry nodded towards the door and got up on his feet; Ginny followed him suit. “My office, as soon as you're out of here.”

Astoria pressed her lips into a thin line, only nodding politely as Harry and Ginny passed her on their way out.

“What do I have to do to get released?” Draco asked, pushing his blanket down to finally swing his legs over the edge. All he wanted now was a decent amount of pain potion, something to eat, and a long hot shower at home before he'd meet Harry at the Auror Department.

“Depends on your injuries, Mr Malfoy,” the Healer-in-Charge replied, “and I hope you comply this time.”

Draco briefly considered biting back, but then he only nodded in understanding. If he wanted to get out of here, he better play along.

* * *

 

Harry didn't get a chance to take a breath when he arrived in his office as he was immediately called into an impromptu meeting by the Minister himself. He had just enough time to grab everything relevant to Hermione's case before he had to appear in the great meeting room on the Minister's level.

He was one of the last to arrive, so of course every present person turned around to watch him enter. With a brief nod in greeting, he quickly claimed the nearest free seat and sat down. As much as he loved his position as Head of the Auror Department, he still hated meetings like this because somehow everyone expected him to come up with something.

“Now that we are complete, the meeting can begin,” Minister Shacklebolt said, his voice an authoritative bass that immediately drew everyone's attention towards him. “Thanks for attending despite the very short notice.”

Harry had a look around the table and saw half of the Department for Magical Law Enforcement sitting there—every sub-department that could lend reinforcements was attending, amongst them faces he had maybe seen twice at an official event. He nodded when he met the eyes of the Head of the Magical Law Enforcement Patrol, a weathered wizard called Exter; they had worked together in other instances, but he still couldn't remember the wizard's first name.

“As everyone knows, the Auror Department is investigating the kidnapping of one of their own, the well-known Hermione Granger. I've had a brief discussion with Mr Potter about his progress and his plans yesterday evening, and that's why we are now sitting here.” Shacklebolt briefly smiled in Harry's direction. “Now, Mr Potter, if you could quickly update everyone present on the situation and your plans?”

Harry cleared his throat and straightened the small pile in front of him. “I'm going to be short about it as I don't want to get lost in details... As far as we know, Hermione was kidnapped by an underground organisation in response to an investigation into the disappearances of wizards and witches throughout the last couple of years. We are close to discovering her location, and now we are requesting support from every department as this might turn out bigger than the Aurors could stem on their own.”

“What do you know about the location?” the only witch in the room asked, sounding sceptical—Harry vaguely remembered her name, Tubb or something; she was the Head of the Investigation Department, though he still didn't exactly know what their purpose was.

He sighed; this meeting might just have him end up in the hospital as the damn Oath of Secrecy still loomed over him whenever he came close to Hermione's secret. For once, he wished that Malfoy was here, who wasn't bound by the Oath. “It's most likely going to be a fight pit, but we're not yet fully sure as to why she is kept there.”

“So, you want us to run blindly into a basically unknown location with the good chance that she might not be there at all, and which bears a great risk for everyone involved?” Tubb asked, with her neighbours nodding in agreement.

“Yes.” Harry took his glasses off to occupy his fingers for a moment. “I am requesting your help not only because we suspect Hermione's being held there, but also because of the sheer expected size of the location. According to our investigations, we expect a host of people that we need to arrest and bring in for questioning, besides freeing other kidnapped wizards and witches. My department is not equipped to deal with that on its own.”

“You said _kidnapped wizard and witches_ ,” the wizard opposite Harry asked; he was about the same age, but showed signs of his mostly sedentary job. “Why am I here? I'm heading the Beast Division–”

“Because we might need to deal with Creatures being held captive there,” Harry replied flatly, “and that's where you come in, to take care of their treatment after the raid, such as immediate housing, medical treatment, contacting their clans and families, and whatever is needed.”

“Creatures?” Exter exclaimed, straightening in his chair. “You're sure about that?”

“Pretty sure.” Harry threw a glance around the table and noticed Tubb in discussion with her neighbour, a wizard he couldn't place at all. “Listen, I do understand that the risks are high, but this is a chance to hand the organised crime a tough blow if we manage to raid that pit.”

“So,” Shacklebolt intervened, “what is the decision of each present Department?”

“Magical Law Enforcement is in,” Exter replied, leaning back. “Just let me know how many people you need.”

“Beast Division is in,” Grimmer added, though he grumbled his answer. “I can't let you deal with Creatures...”

“My department would gladly help out with the questioning, since my people aren't trained in field operations,” Tubb replied. “Let me know how many people you need...”

“Teversham?” Shacklebolt asked Tubb's neighbour. “What about you? I know you have a handful of people you can send...”

The wizard in question leaned back, acting as if he was considering his options. “My department handles the country's defence; we're not really equipped for raids–”

“The Department of Security has a raid training,” Exter retorted impatiently. “We even train your people.”

“All right, then. I can send a _handful_.”

 

It took them longer than Harry expected to settle the details of their collaboration, and he had been on the point of exasperation when the meeting finally ended. At least they had all easily agreed on him leading the operation, as he had been involved in the whole case from the beginning.

Now, on the way back to his office, he fully understood Malfoy's impatience and the resulting frustration. This was about trying to find Hermione, and he was stuck in bureaucracy instead of going out there and turn every stone and piss off every living wizard until he found a lead. Maybe Malfoy was indeed right!

A few interdepartmental notes were hovering in the air in front of his office door that he kept locked these days; he snatched one of them to read its content. It was from Seamus, who simply wrote that he could count him in for the raid; Dean had co-signed. They both worked for the Magical Law Enforcement, although nowadays mostly behind the desk. The other hovering note was from Susan Bones stating the same; she worked for the Wizengamot, following her aunt's footsteps. The notes made him smile, as they rekindled the faint hope in his chest, and he felt his body relax.

Just moments before he entered his office, he saw that the door leading into Hermione's office was ajar—it was usually locked like his, and only one other person could enter the room at all.

“Malfoy.” Harry leaned against the door frame, smirking when the blond startled, being pulled from his musings. “They let you leave then.”

Draco nodded; he kept twirling the picture between his hands. “With the order to stay home and take it easy.”

Harry chuckled, mostly because neither of them had any plans of taking it easy in the next couple of days. “I just had a meeting about the raid.”

“And?”

“We're good to go. I think I have enough people to raid the place twice... And I get the commando,” Harry replied; he found it curious how much Draco played with the picture that showed Hermione giving him a kiss on the cheek at the party celebrating Ginny's promotion. Happy times.

“I have something you might like.” After placing the picture back on the shelf, Draco leaned against Hermione's desk, careful not to move anything. “Remembered them while taking a shower.”

“What?” Harry stepped inside, curious what he meant. After a raised eyebrow and a quick nod from Draco, he closed the door behind him. To his surprise, Draco pulled a small box from his coat pocket and opened it.

“They are a prototype my labs worked on–”

“You're into jewellery now?” Earning himself a snort, Harry took a closer look at the box' content—cuff links, both engraved with a simplified version of the Malfoy crest.

“They'd be out of your range anyway,” Draco replied sharply. “However, they can be used as a tracker, and they work like a Muggle device, so they wouldn't be interrupted by any wards around the pit.”

“That is... genius.”

“I make sure to relay your comment to my Development Department.” Draco carefully picked up one cuff link to put it in place on his sleeve, repeating it with the other before he reached for a small bag that Harry hadn't noticed yet on the desk. “This is the receiver.”

“And how–?”

“I tap the cuff links and a red light goes on. That's the sign for you and your cavalry to arrive.”

“Are you sure you want to go in?” Harry knew the answer, but he still wanted to offer one last chance for Draco to back out, because their plan was outright dangerous and depended on too much luck.

“I'm the one who can do it.”

Harry nodded in understanding. “All right. I have a briefing for everyone involved in an hour, then Operation Snake Pit can start–”

“Snake Pit? Really?” Draco chuckled but then shrugged. “Fine by me.”

* * *

 

“What are you doing here?!”

Draco was still astonished that it had been so easy to enter the fight club—only asked for his code word but without any body search or other bad surprises waiting for him. He had just started to check out the hall and the other patrons when he was pulled into a corner.

It was Lilah, the succubus he had met the last time. “By Lilith! You should leave immediately!”

“Nice to see you too,” Draco replied, prying her hand off his wrist. She was looking just like he remembered her—though, this time, she wore a low-cut burgundy dress and matching sleeves. She wasn't using her persuasive powers on him, and she still looked stunning.

“Don't you get it? You're in a lot of danger... The boss is here, and if he knows you're here, then Lilith have mercy!”

The boss was in. This sounded like the chance Draco was looking for, and he wasn't going to let it go. “Bring me to him.”

Gasping, she made a step back. “No. No! You've gone mad!”

He grabbed her arm before she could make another step back. A brief memory of their first meeting flashed through his mind upon the touch of her skin, but he pushed it back. “Either tell me where the other pit is, or bring me to your boss–”

“I don't know where the other pit is! I'm stuck _here_!” Her voice turned into an angry hiss, as she tried to get out of his grip. “Do you want to get killed?”

“I want to find my friend,” he retorted in the same hissing tone. “And you're going to help me. I'm not alone, but I need you to bring me to your boss...”

Lilah opened her lips to reply but then sighed. “I really wish you would just leave... Save your life–”

“I want to know where she is.”

“Fine. I'll let him know that you want to see him. Just...” She smiled briefly when he let go of her arm in response to her words. “Just give me a moment, okay? I'm sure Marla will give you another drink...”

He nodded, then watched her go back, disappearing between the other patrons, before he made his way to the bar Marla worked at tonight.

 

Draco spent about an hour at the bar, nursing his Firewhisky—the expensively good one from last time—and watching the other patrons enjoy Marla's smile as they got served their drinks. He was just downing the last drops of his Firewhisky when a pair of guards approached him discreetly.

“Boss wants to see you.”

Draco studied the guards for a few seconds before he placed the tumbler on the counter; he nodded and got up to follow them. All of a sudden, his heart was racing as he realised that Lilah had been right—he was walking into a trap with his eyes open. But he was also getting another step closer to finding Hermione, so he wasn't going to stop now.

He was let into an office that was hidden behind a hidden door; you had to know the location to find it. The room itself could be described as a poor attempt at showing off wealth and power—the mahogany desk was obscenely overdone, and the rest of the room was no better, even if its decor was much more restrained. It just screamed _new money_ , and he found it insulting, but he didn't let it show.

“I heard you asked for me.”

Draco's attention was immediately drawn to the man in the corner, who was putting the lid back on glass jug; Draco assumed it was just for a sniff as he couldn't discover a filled tumbler on the drinks cabinet. The suit was a casual but expensive Italian style, definitely bespoke because no off-the-peg suit would fit this well. The whole appearance reminded him of the Mafia films he had watched with Hermione, down to the tanned skin and the dark hair. “I did.”

“I have to admit that I find you interesting. Others would give up when we deliver a _message_ , yet you come back and ask for me.” In an absent-minded move, he straightened a ring on his finger, then came around the desk.

“You have something that belongs to me,” Draco replied coolly, noticing the oddly shaped ring that looked like some sort of small animal. “And I'd like to have it back.”

“I see. However, what _The Organisation_ has, is theirs.”

“And a Malfoy usually gets what he wants.”

“Do you?” The man let out a small derisive chuckle. “But at least you are a man with taste; Lilah is our finest _companion_.”

“She is. But it's not her I want.” Draco shifted into his usual position he took during casual meetings with business partners, his jacket open, his hands in the trouser pockets while assuming a relaxed stance. Never give away how much you want something, or you already lost the haggle. “I'm interested in one of your fighters.”

“A very specific one, I presume...”

“Yes. I heard she is good.”

“Oh, she is. Such a good bird.”

Draco studied the other man for a moment, noticing the dark glint in his otherwise strikingly blue eyes. He couldn't help but feel a cold shiver run down his spine, and an uneasy feeling settled in his stomach. “I want to buy her out.”

“We don't sell our fighters–”

“Name the price.” Draco tried to keep the tone casual, despite the uneasiness growing. “Money isn't the problem.”

The other man nodded, a devious smile forming slowly on his face. “Your interest in her is indeed intriguing. So, I'll invite you to join me tonight, as the little bird is the main event tonight. If she survives, we might get talking...”

Draco felt his heart sink at the mention of her fight, and he briefly balled his hands into fists but he kept his relaxed business act up to avoid raising suspicion. “Then I hope she survives the fight.”

“Follow me, then.”

After a short but deep breath, Draco followed the man out of the office, taking note of everything around him. Remembering the devious smile, it felt like walking into the biggest death trap ever, but he was _so_ goddamn close!

“Lilah!”

She looked nervous when she came over, straightening her dress unnecessarily while she tried to avoid looking at Draco. “Yes?”

“We go over to the other pit. I want you to come along.”

Her eyes widened, and she risked a look at Draco before she switched back to the other man. “Come along?”

“You provided this gentleman with a great service on his last visit; I want to make sure he _enjoys_ this one too. Understood?”

She nodded and then approached Draco, who offered her his arm for support. “Why are you doing this? He's dangerous...”

“I know,” he replied in the same whispering voice. “I dealt with many dangerous people in my life.”

She shook her head, her lips pressed into a thin line. “You're a fool.”

 

Moments later, Draco found himself landed on a small balcony above a similar looking hall that had a much more intimate and exclusive feel to it; huge amounts of money changed hands here in discreet bets on the fighters. It was not a place he would usually willingly associate with, nor had his father as far as he knew.

“Tonight's main fight will be a great highlight with the patrons,” the boss said, rubbing his hands in expectation. “The Harpy against the Veela. Oh, this is going to be fun!”

Draco clenched his jaw at the mention of the fight, glad that he was walking behind the other man. He just hoped he had enough time to call the cavalry in before the main fight started; he didn't want her to go through another one.

“I'll go and get us a drink,” Lilah offered in a whisper, attempting an appeasing smile but failing as she was still eyeing her boss who was chatting with another patron, a middle-aged businessman who enjoyed the good things in life a bit too much based on his girth. “Why don't you find a spot at the pit? Sounds like the first fight is already going on...”

There was indeed cheering and whistling coming from the middle of the hall where most of the patrons were following the fight between two poor men. Draco had a look around while slowly walking towards the fight pit to find a spot that would be close enough but still spare him the full sight. He found their anticipation for the kill, their excitement about a fight to the death utterly disgusting. He had survived a war with too many dead on both sides, and he had witnessed one of those death fights on his last visit—it was enough for a lifetime.

“Here you are...” Lilah returned with their drinks, smiling softly. “I promise, there won't be any seduction games tonight–”

“Don't worry about that,” Draco replied, returning the smile, and reached for the tumbler she was holding up for him to have a sip. “But whatever happens in a few moments, stay calm.”

“What do you mean?”

“I have friends waiting for my sign.” Smirking briefly, he tapped one of his cuff links with his free hand, knowing that it would set off the light on the receiving end. This was the perfect moment to call in the cavalry, as everyone in the room was distracted by the on-going fight.

And his friends were fast.

Only seconds after Draco had tapped the cuff link, the hall was stormed with a brigade of Aurors and Hit Wizards, yelling that everyone present should stay where they are, as they were under arrest.

Draco watched the flood of Aurors take the building by storm, as it was a quite impressive thing to witness, with spells going off, incapacitating the guards. But then he grabbed Lilah's hand. “Do you know where the fighters are kept?”

“I-I think so–”

“Take me there.”


	19. You're Not Real

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas everyone! :-)  
> This chapter is posted two days earlier due to the Christmas holidays, giving everyone has the chance to read it before the chaos of those festive days begins...
> 
> This is part two of the rescue, this time from Hermione's POV—at this point, we know what she knows about the success of the raid...
> 
> My thanks: _luunascope_ for being such a sweetheart to read through my chapters and weed out my mistakes and typos, and to have me brood over small things for days. :-*  
>  To _Debbie_ , _amyeco_ , and _everone else_ for answering my questions and listening to my doubts and ramblings. I love you all, girls!
> 
> I do have a small and humble wish for Christmas: Comments would absolutely make my day!  
> If you want to make me smile over the holidays, then leave a few words—they'll be highly appreciated as always! <3 <3
> 
> Now, all I have left to say is: I do hope you have wonderful holiday, and enjoy!

“Softie, don't worry too much. We knew it might come to that...”

Hermione sat all curled up on her bed, shutting everything out in her mental preparation before the main fight. That bastard had set her up against her neighbour, as a next step in his attempt to break her. Death started to sound like a very acceptable option, but then she didn't want her neighbour to be stuck in this hell any longer either. “I know.”

“All I can promise you now is that I'll try to give you a clean death, no suffering.”

“Thanks,” she whispered, hiding her face between her knees. She hated his calm voice; it irritated her beyond belief, even though she knew that he was trying to soothe her. To distract herself, she listened to the faint sounds of the first fight that was still going on in the pit; however, she noticed that there was more shouting than usual.

“You hear that?”

“What?” She lifted her head and tried to listen more closely into the labyrinth of cells that was filled with other fighters trying to do exercises, others chatting, some snoring and whatever you could do to escape boredom.

“It's coming closer...”

And then she could hear it too. It was a faint murmur at first, but then it grew louder between the other noises—it was as if more and more fighters were making noise or raising their voice. And then...

“Hermione!”

She couldn't believe what she just heard, so she turned her head towards the cell door. No one in here had ever called her name before, she was known as The Harpy, or _filthy bird_ for that matter... It just had to be a trick her mind was playing on her!

“Hermione!”

She froze in her position on the bed, an icy shiver running down her spine when she recognised the voice that kept calling her name. “Draco...”

It could only be a trick that The Hungarian played on her mind because Draco wouldn't be the one coming here. Harry or Ron maybe, but not Draco. Not _him_.

“Is that your name?”

She didn't answer. Her eyes were fixed on the cell door, and she was scared to see whoever was going to arrive in front of it any moment now. Her heart was pumping faster, and she slowly balled her hands into fists, ready to defend herself in a fight if necessary.

“Over there!” a few fighters in nearby cells shouted, probably even pointing in her direction, while others were cheering further in the back.

Moments later, she heard footsteps running towards her cell—she would recognise that sound everywhere. It couldn't be him. No. It had to be a trick!

And then _he_ was there, in front of her cell.

"Go away! You're not real!" she shouted at him as she climbed off her bed to face him. Her muscles were all tensing up, and her fingernails were digging into her palms by now.

"Hermione," Draco said once more, whispering softly. "It's over..."

"Nothing is over! You're not real!"

"Everything okay?" the neighbour asked, then she could hear him move to the front of his cell. "He's really here, Softie."

She shook her head in disbelief, but she still instinctively made a step back when she saw Draco aim his wand at the cell door. "No!"

Draco only needed a small, well-placed _Bombarda_ to open the cell; the echo of the explosion sounded throughout the labyrinth, causing the other captives to shout. It was a cacophony of voices and noises, and it drowned her, chasing every other thought out of her mind.

She saw him step inside and get within reach—the touch of his fingers around her wrist finally snapped her out of her momentary trance. Shocked at the touch, she pulled her hand away.

“You're not real,” she murmured, stepping backwards until she hit the wall. “You're not supposed to be here.”

“We are all here for you, Hermione.” He didn't try hiding the shock in his voice, but it was still soft, warm even. “And I'm so glad I found you.”

She wanted to believe the words! Her body started to tremble, and she didn't pull her hand away when she felt his fingers gently wrap around her wrist once more.

“My lioness,” he whispered, pulling her closer. “My fiery, strong lioness.”

“My silver dragon.” The words came out of her automatically; it had been her response to his words every night before falling asleep—no one else knew them. She never thought she'd hear him whisper them again—and now he was here, holding her!

He was really here!

Feeling the urge to hold on to him, she embraced him; she longed for the safety of his arms and the soothing feeling of his scent. His touch was a reassurance that she hadn't lost it, that her mind wasn't playing a trick on her, so she pulled him closer.

“So glad I found you...”

She could no longer hold back as he kept repeating those words, his arms tightly around her shoulders. A sob of relief escaped her when the realisation hit her fully—she didn't have to fight any longer! All that pain, all that hopelessness, it was finally over.

“Softie?” the neighbour asked again, sounding worried. “You okay?”

“Yes,” she replied, only to have another sob escape. After a deep breath, she loosened her arms around Draco's waist, though she was still reluctant to let go. In the back, she could hear spells go off everywhere, mixed with shouts and cheers. They had come.

The nightmare was over.

* * *

 

Hours later, Hermione was sitting in the interrogation room at the Auror Department, facing Harry. It was late at night, and she was exhausted, but she knew she had to go through the process of giving a witness account before being able to wind down and let go of everything. At least her medical examination attested her being relatively unharmed, given the situation she had been found in. But now she had other questions on her mind.

“I'm so glad to have you back,” Harry said, sounding about as tired as she felt, but with a relieved smile on his lips.

She nodded, returning the smile, albeit more faintly. Her eyes kept returning to the one-sided mirror; she simply knew that _he_ was on the other side, with so many questions she couldn't answer. “He knows.”

Harry pulled off his glasses to gain a few seconds, as he always did when trying to find the right words. “Yes.”

“H-How? I mean...” She sighed. As relieved she had been in the first moment to see him, to hold him even, she knew that it had changed nothing, and that there was at least one very uncomfortable conversation waiting for her, right on the other side of the mirror.

“He figured it out, Hermione. And he didn't give up once he knew,” Harry replied, putting his glasses back on; he was looking at her as if gauging her reaction. “I mean, we had an argument about me not telling him, but _he never gave up_.”

She looked down at her hands which still bore the scars from her fights—a constant reminder of the hell she had been put through. Harry's words were hard to bear, as she had made herself believe that _he_ had moved on, because she never once believed that _he_ would come looking for her.

“You should really talk to him, he deserves it now more than before,” Harry said, breaking the heavy silence.

She noticed his quick glance to the mirror, and her heart sank. "You know I can't–"

“I'm afraid you will have to...” He quickly brushed through his hair, trying to hide the wince. “Draco and I made a deal—don't look at me like that!”

“I don't know what you mean!” she retorted with a huff, narrowing her eyes at him in utter disbelief.

“This!” He pointed at her face, and then he leaned back, crossing his arms. “Look, he offered to help in exchange for a chance to talk to you. He wants answers, and, honestly, I would have told him everything if I had been able to–”

“You wouldn't–”

“I would have.” He leaned forward, his eyes narrowed behind the rims of his glasses. “Eight years and _both of you_ are fucking miserable. You will talk to him. Not today, but you will.”

Hermione bit her lip to distract herself from the tears threatening to blur her eyes. Nothing scared her more than talking to Draco about her reasons for leaving him. What was she supposed to tell him? That she didn't mean to hurt him, as hollow as that sounded?

“Hermione, please...”

She shook her head, her eyes once more fixed on her hands.

Harry sighed, only to then pull his chair closer. Carefully, he reached for her hand. “Please. He's not angry, just–”

"Disappointed?" Her voice was a whisper now.

“Maybe. But I'm sure that you both can discuss everything in a mature way, okay?” His thumb followed the traces of her scars on her hand. “If not, I'll hex him for you...”

That made her smile briefly, and she felt a small wave of relief ebb through her body. However, she was still scared to talk to Draco because she simply didn't know what to say, how she could possibly explain herself. She was scared of his reaction. But maybe, just maybe, now that he knew about her secret, she might be able to talk about it. “Fine. I'll try and talk to him. But I can't promise you anything.”

“That's fine by me. As long as you try.”

She nodded again, and then she lifted her head, only to see him smile softly at her. “Can... Can we continue tomorrow? I'm exhausted, and I just want to sleep now.”

He pressed his lips into a thin line, but then he agreed with a nod. “I do hope that you understand that your place is no longer safe–”

“Just place me in a safe house, then.”

He squeezed her hand. “About that...”

The way he said it could only mean one thing—she wasn't going to sleep in one of the Ministry's safe houses. “Harry, no. Please, don't tell me you agreed to that!”

“As much as I'd love to let you stay in one of the Ministry safe houses, I think the place he has for you is a better option at the moment.”

“I'm not staying at _his_... place?”

Harry shook his head. “No. It's yours. Put under the Fidelius Charm and every other ward and whatever he could think of to hide it. It's probably even safer than Gringotts.”

She still struggled with the idea of Draco taking care of her. On one hand, she missed it dearly, that feeling of being able to just cuddle up to his side with a cup of tea when she felt down; on the other hand, it just felt too soon still. Too many things stood between them...

“He promised me that the place is yours, and if you don't want to see him, or anyone else for that matter, you don't have to.”

“Okay,” she finally said. “With the condition that he accepts it if I don't want to see him.”

Harry quickly glanced at the mirror, almost like a warning for the person behind it to follow these words. “I'm sure he'll understand.”

* * *

 

The Auror Department had been turned into one big waiting area, trying to accommodate the fighters that had been freed from their cells at the pit. So, when Hermione exited the interrogation room, she met a waiting line of fellow captives in the hallway, all of them wearing the same exhausted but relieved look on their faces.

"Softie..."

She looked up when she heard the familiar voice, the anchor of sanity over the past few weeks. "Hello..."

He looked just as tired as everyone else; she could glimpse a bandage around his upper body under the cover he had been given, probably still his broken rib that hadn't been treated properly in time and now needed to heal slower. "You're going home?"

She shook her head, then briefly turned her attention to the two men waiting in the background, in front of the door to the observation room. Draco looked wary while Harry just kept an eye on her, trying to stifle a yawn. "My friends don't want me to get kidnapped again."

He smiled, and the room around them lit up ever so slightly. "I just wanted to say that I'm going to miss talking to you; you're a great person."

She returned the smile and used the moment to finally have a good look at him—after all, they had been separated by a wall most of the time, only able to hear each other; there had been short glimpses, of course, when they passed each other's cell before and after a fight. He shared a few similarities with Draco, such as the pale skin, and the sharp, defined features; his hair, however, had a golden shimmer whereas Draco's always faintly reminded her of silver. And he had an aura about him that felt relaxing, but maybe it was just the familiarity of his presence.

"Softie, you're staring," he said with a light chuckle. "And your friend over there isn't looking too happy about it."

“Sorry.” Her cheeks reddened slightly in embarrassment, but then she glanced over to Draco who was watching them from afar, showing an irritated pout, but otherwise keeping his distance. "It's just... We talked so much and yet this is the first time I see you properly. I mean, is that true? You're a Veela?”

“It's okay. And yes, I am.”

“One of my friends is part Veela, but I've never met a male one before; I only ever heard about them in myths and legends.”

He smiled softly. “Males are indeed rare enough, and we have other abilities than the females–"

“I'd love to know more!” Hermione replied with growing enthusiasm, despite exhaustion threatening to crash her any moment now.

“There will be a time for that, I'm sure.” His smiled broadened, and he offered her his hand. "But it has been an honour meeting you. If you ever decide to visit me and my people, you will be welcome, as are your friends. _All_ of them."

"The honour is mine," she replied, accepting the handshake. "And I would love to visit your people one day."

"Until then, take care of yourself."

"You too."

After one last squeeze of her hand, Hermione let go before turning around to face Draco who would bring her to her new place.

* * *

 

They had to Apparate to a side street to get to the place Draco had prepared, as it wasn't connected to the Floo Network. Once the dizziness abated and she could orientate herself again, she followed him in silence across the street.

A few more houses down, he stopped and reached into his coat pocket to produce a carefully folded note. “Read this.”

She immediately recognised his elegant handwriting and let her eyes follow its curves for a moment. The note contained an address, and she did her best to memorise it. Moments later, a building started to appear between the existing houses—it felt like a déjà-vu from the War, the first time she had been shown Grimmauld Place which had also appeared out of nothing in a similar way. Although her new place looked much more inviting.

Inside, the place looked comfortable, reminding her vaguely of the atmosphere in their old shared flat; she further ventured inside until she reached what looked like the living room. When she heard him enter behind her, she turned around, a shy smile on her lips. “This place is wonderful... Thank you.”

“It's yours, as long as you want to stay,” he replied, hiding his hands in his coat pockets.

“I... Thanks.”

“There are a few things you need to know, though.” He went over to the fireplace, a beautiful marble piece, decorated with a few trinkets and pictures. “Harry agreed to keep the Floo blocked, except for a connection to his place—and mine. Although Harry will need to tell you the location first as his is under the Fidelius as well.”

“And yours?”

He smiled faintly. “Same. But we'll sort that when we get there...”

She noticed the restraint in his voice; he was trying to keep calm, but she knew that it was just a facade. Gods, she could see the questions burning in his eyes, the disappointment glimmering beneath it, and yet he remained civil, even though he had every right to shout at her.

“The wards are configured to block people Apparating in, but you can always Apparate out if anything happens that might upset or scare you. It's not supposed to be another cage, but a safe place.”

She nodded in understanding. “Thanks. For everything I mean.”

He briefly looked down in response to her words; she heard him take a deep breath. “There's one more thing... Tibby?”

Hermione was confused for a moment until she saw the house-elf walk in, who immediately squealed happily when she saw her standing in the room.

“The Mistress is back!” With little, excited jumps, the house-elf came closer. “Tibby missed her Mistress a lot!”

Hermione couldn't help but smile at the happiness Tibby showed, she had always been an excitable creature. A quick glance over to Draco showed that he was smiling too, genuinely so.

“She volunteered to help you when I told her that you might be coming back. Whatever you need–”

“–Tibby will get it! The bed is ready if the Mistress wants to sleep now, and Tibby will make a good breakfast tomorrow morning.”

Hermione bent down to Tibby's level, glad to see another friendly face. “Thanks, my dear. I did miss you too, you know? No one makes better pancakes–”

“Tibby makes pancakes for breakfast tomorrow!”

With a short chuckle, Hermione straightened up again. “Thanks, Draco. You really didn't have to do all this.”

“I wanted to.” He stepped closer, though still keeping his distance. “I told her not to Apparate around you to avoid triggering you. And, for the moment, she agreed not to leave the grounds, except for my place if you need anything, or if anything happens...”

“Yes, Tibby will take care of Mistress, just like before.”

Maybe, just maybe, it wasn't such a bad thing to let Draco care for her safety at the moment. It was still awkward, but she knew she was in good hands. “Tibby, would you mind running a bath for me? I'd give a kingdom for one now...”

“Yes, Tibby still remembers how Mistress likes it!” After another happy squeal, the house-elf ran out of the room, eager to get her task done.

Once more alone in the room, Hermione returned her attention to him. “It's been a long day for both of us, but I feel like I need to say something.”

“Hermione–”

“I really appreciate what you're doing, despite the fact that I don't deserve it. Not from you at least. I... I... Just thank you.” She sighed. There was so much she wanted to tell him, but she couldn't get it out—at least not now.

“I missed you,” he whispered, his voice cracking ever so slightly; his darkened grey eyes were fixed on her.

Her heart broke a little in response to his admission, and she had to look away. Three simple words, and yet, they implied so much more. “I missed you too. There wasn't a single day I didn't think about you, and-and I wish I could undo everyt–”

“Don't. N-Not like _this_.” With another big step, he was close enough to stop her with placing a finger on her lips; his eyes showed a dark stormy grey. “You're right, it's been a long day for both of us; I should go now.”

She wanted to stop him from leaving, make him stay a bit longer, but he was out of her reach before she could even try to grab his hand. “Draco, please. I'm sorry... I shouldn't have said that.”

He stopped at the door, raising his hand; however, he didn't turn around. Even from the distance, she could see him clenching his jaws, all tensed up. “I'll check on you tomorrow, see if you need anything.”

Overwhelmed, and unable to say anything further without causing more pain, she let him leave. The sound of the front door being shut echoed through the place.

To keep herself from breaking down right there in the living room, Hermione went to find the bathroom, feeling the urge to submerge herself completely under water to drown the thoughts circling in her mind, and to scrub the dirt off her skin.

“Mistress... The bath isn't ready yet!” Tibby said in surprise when Hermione found her. “Where is Master?”

“He left.”

The house-elf nodded and watched her sit down on the toilet lid, wiping her eyes. “Does Mistress want to be alone? Tibby can prepare something to sleep better.”

Hermione nodded, her throat threatening to choke. “Please.”

“Tomorrow will be better,” Tibby said before she left the bathroom.

Oh, how she wanted to believe that! Hermione could no longer hold back her tears, the emotions finally getting the better of her. All she could think of was the restraint Draco had shown to keep the situation civil, and how she had still managed to hurt him without meaning to.

After a deep breath to calm down, she got ready to step into the filled tub and let herself go in the water.

Tomorrow will be better.

She just hoped that the house-elf was right.


	20. Master still wears his coat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year, everyone! May the new year bring you all luck and good health!
> 
> A year ago today, I started posting this story, and it has come a long way since then. :)  
> However, the rescue is only the first climax, now they need to deal with the aftermath and the consequences of the raid. It will be an emotional road...
> 
> My thanks: To my wonderful and lovely beta _luunascope_ , who made me laugh with her comments to this chapter, and who makes sure it looks as good as it can!
> 
> Besides that, many hugs to _Debbie, Linda, Katie_ , and _Evora_ for having the patience to listen to my doubts and ramblings while writing this chapter! You are wonderful people, I'm happy to know you all!
> 
> Now, enjoy! :-)

After leaving Hermione's new place, Draco didn't think of going home—he couldn't sleep anyway, not as upset as he currently was, despite the late night. Without thinking about it, he made for Potter's place, quickly reaching for the note with the address in his coat that Harry had given him earlier in the Department. With a sigh, he knocked on the door, hoping that Ginny was still up.

The door was opened by a tired-looking red-head who immediately perked up when she recognised him, a soft smile forming on her lips. “Draco... I mean, come in.”

“I woke you up.”

Ginny shook her head as she led him through to their kitchen. “I was waiting for Harry, might have fallen asleep on the sofa. He sent a quick note that the raid was a success, but that's all. Tea?”

He nodded, then sat down at the table, fidgeting with his hands. “We found her.”

Ginny quickly turned her head towards him as she was igniting the stove. “Hermione? How is she? Is she okay?”

He nodded, his eyes fixed on his still fidgeting hands. There it was again, that image of her standing in that goddamn living room, looking all hurt and scared while he tried to keep his emotions under control.

“Hey, you okay?”

The touch of her hand on his startled him from his thoughts, and he looked up, shaking his head.

“It's like a déjà-vu having you sit here in my kitchen again–”

“I thought I could handle it, but everything came back when... when I brought her to her place,” he replied, not hiding the bitterness in his voice. “I wanted to shout at her, let it all out—the pain and everything, just that she finally knows. And she just stands there in that living room, trying to say something. And... And...”

“You couldn't take it?”

He shook his head again. To his momentary relief, the kettle whistled, calling for Ginny's attention. He wondered while she let the tea brew why of all places he had come here; after all, they hadn't really talked in years, having only rekindled their friendship in the last few weeks. But then, out of all his friends, she seemed like the one who would willingly listen to him even at this time of night.

“I won't even pretend and say that _I can imagine_ ,” Ginny said as she returned to the table with two mugs in her hand and a tired but sympathetic smile on her lips. “I mean it _has_ been a long time, but...”

He accepted the mug she handed him and blew over it as it was still steaming. The scent was relaxing, so he guessed she had put valerian in his mug. Looking over the rim of his mug, he watched her sit down and place her head in her hand.

“It was probably just as upsetting for her,” Ginny continued after another silent moment, stirring her tea carefully. “I mean I don't speak for her... But she probably didn't know what to say either.”

He nodded, and then turned his head to let his gaze roam through her kitchen, avoiding her. The room still looked pretty much the same as last time he had sat here—days before he knew _she_ had returned. The only addition were the children drawings on the wall and the odd toy laying around—it was oddly soothing that it hadn't changed much.

“Can we visit her?”

Her question pulled him from his straying thoughts, as it broke the tired and heavy silence. He chuckled briefly when he realised what she had asked. “Of course. Just remind me to write down the address before I leave. I think she would love to see a _friendly face_.”

Her quickly raised eyebrow showed that she had heard the meaning behind his words, and she sighed. “I know it's not easy for both of you at the moment, but I'm sure she would be glad to see you too, despite everything. Just... Just give it some time.”

Oh, time he had enough. Patience was something else.

* * *

 

The next morning, Draco woke up to find himself lying on a sofa, under a self-knitted cover and with a slightly stiff neck. It wasn't his sofa, and he didn't own any self-knitted covers. He let out a groan as he stretched his muscles before attempting to sit up.

“Well, well, our guest is finally awake.”

“Guest?” Startled, Draco followed the voice to find Harry sitting in the armchair opposite the sofa, an amused smirk on his face and a mug that smelled suspiciously like coffee in his hands.

“You were already sleeping on my sofa when I made it home. Ginny said you basically crashed at the kitchen table, and she didn't want to let you go home. That's why you're here.”

“She put something in that tea she offered.” Grumbling, Draco sat up. He noticed the noise of children playing upstairs, grimacing as the noise rang in his head. “I should go home.”

Harry chuckled. “No. In my house, sleepover guests get to enjoy a breakfast. And you get to meet my children.”

Draco rubbed his face and quickly brushed through his hair to give it some sort of order, though it was probably useless. “I remember James.”

“He's grown a bit since then, but I think you might like his sense of humour.” Harry took a sip of his coffee. “Hermione is the godmother of his sister, Lily.”

Draco remembered Ginny mentioning something similar over a beer they had shared not too long ago. “Why are you here? I thought the Department is run over with witnesses and arrested patrons?”

“Oh, we are. We don't even have enough cells,” Harry replied with a sigh. “But the Investigation Department has taken over the interrogations, so that my people can get a decent amount of sleep. And Ginny insisted on having breakfast with my children—and you.”

“Coffee is enough–”

“Harry?” Ginny came walking in, holding a set of plates in her hands. “Ah, perfect timing. Breakfast is ready.”

“I could eat something at home–”

Ginny shook her head, still smirking. “I'm afraid our children have already seen you on the sofa. And believe me, they _are curious_.”

Draco let out a groan. He wasn't in any state to deal with children, despite fondly remembering James when he was still a baby. “At least let me have a coffee first... No need to scare them.”

Ginny chuckled, but after a nod, she walked back into the kitchen. “Oh, James could use a scare for all the shenanigans he's up to lately.”

Confused, Draco looked at Harry who simply shrugged and finished his mug.

“He spends too much time with his uncles...” Harry got up and pushed his glasses back into place. “Ginny told me it didn't go too well with _her_ last night?”

“Not going to talk about it.” Draco threw Harry a warning glare before moving to his feet as well, groaning as his neck was still stiff. His shirt and his trousers were wrinkled from the night on the sofa, but it still looked acceptable enough.

Harry nodded in acknowledgement. “She wants to come in later to continue her witness account. Just, please, if you want to be there as well, keep to the observation room... I don't want to make it more uncomfortable for her than I really have to. And I don't know how she'll react to your presence while talking about what she's been through.”

“Fine.”

“Thanks. Now, you better join my wife for your coffee while I grab the children upstairs.” With a brief smirk, Harry nodded towards the kitchen, holding up his empty mug for Draco to take. “Thanks.”

* * *

 

Draco was still at the Potter house, just finishing his second mug of coffee after breakfast while listening to James' stories about his latest visit to his uncles' shop, when the fireplace came to life with its tell-tale _whoosh_ , announcing a visitor.

The three adults in the kitchen looked at each other, curious who would come to the Potter house through the Floo network, as barely anyone was given access.

“Anyone here?”

Draco's eyes widened with apprehensive recognition. “Shit.”

“Language,” James said, delighted about the swear word.

“Stay here,” Ginny said with a reassuring smile as she got up to greet the visitor; she almost ran out of the kitchen in her excitement.

“Who's come, Daddy?” Lily asked, pointing at the door. “And why is Draco using a bad word?”

Harry sighed and rubbed the back of his head. “That's a complicated story. But I think it's your Auntie–”

“AUNTIE!” With that, Lily was off the chair and following her mother to the living room where the fireplace was located; her brother followed her. A few seconds later, an eruption of happy squeals were heard from the living room.

“I thought you said she'd come to the Department...” Draco leaned back, still shocked that _she_ came here as well.

“Yes I did, Malfoy... But I'm sure Ginny will warn her that you're here as well.”

“I should leave before anything happens.” Draco got to his feet and straightened his shirt once more; he didn't want to meet her like this.

But Draco had no such luck; he was about to sneak out as Ginny brought their visitor in, followed by the children. He froze when he saw her at the door, his mind flooding with the memories of the night before when he brought her to her safe place—and with it, the renewed pain of that moment.

Hermione froze as well as she recognised him, although she managed to wave at him shyly. “I'm... I'm sorry. I didn't know you were already here.”

Draco took a deep breath to calm his nerves. “It's okay... I think.”

Harry got up, momentarily drawing the attention to him. “You already had breakfast I presume?”

“Tibby made pancakes. But tea would be nice,” Hermione said with a nod, trying to keep her hands from fidgeting nervously. “I found the note with your address in my pocket; that's why I came here...”

“Harry, just sit down again,” Ginny said, waving at her husband while already walking over to the stove to set up the kettle.

“Auntie, where have you been?” Lily asked as she reached for Hermione's hand to pull her to the table.

“In a very bad place, my dear.” Hermione glanced at Draco as she picked the girl up; he was still standing in his spot, watching her every move. “But your daddy and Draco here saved me.“

“They are heroes!” James exclaimed with a grin, as he stood next to Hermione who sat down and lifted Lily onto her lap.

That brought Draco back to his senses; he took a deep breath and then rubbed his face, pushing a misbehaving strand out of his eyes. “I need to get out.”

“Draco, please...”

He shook his head as he headed for the door, his lips pressed into a thin line. Right now, it was too much to hear her say his name. Once in front of the fireplace, he took another deep breath, hoping it would help to loosen the choking knot in his throat; he could hear them talk in the other room, glad he couldn't make out the words from where he was standing.

“Everything okay?” Ginny came out of the kitchen, sounding genuinely worried.

He nodded. “I'm fine.”

“I understand,” she replied, glancing briefly at the kitchen where the others remained. “Listen, Harry just offered that they could do the rest of her testimony here, he has one of your small recorders somewhere. I know you want to be there as well–”

“You don't think it would be a good idea.”

She shrugged. “I don't know, really. I think it might be better if she had some support next to her; I just don't know whether your presence might upset her even more...”

“So I should leave?” he asked, his heart sinking at the prospect, despite the overwhelming situation moments before.

“Only if you want to,” she replied, her face softening. “But if you want to _stay_ here, you could distract the children, make sure they don't stray into the kitchen. And definitely make sure that James doesn't do anything he shouldn't. He likes you, you know?”

Leaning against the fireplace, he nodded, feeling the knot in his throat finally diminish, even though the heavy feeling in his chest remained. “Thanks.”

 

James chose wizarding Snakes and Ladders for them to play, mostly because he loved how the ladders would move you around at random, and because his sister could play it too. Besides distracting the children, the game also gave Draco the chance to focus on something else than what was going on in the kitchen. The door was open, and he could hear the odd word coming over, but the children demanded his full attention.

“No, that's not right,” Lily protested weakly, pushing Draco's pawn back one field, straight onto a ladder to his mock dismay. “You moved five fields, but the die only shows a four. Didn't Auntie teach you how to count properly?”

“My mother taught me that when I was your age...”

James took the die as it was his round; he was grinning with delight as the ladder pushed Draco's pawn back a couple of rows. “I'm going to win anyway.”

Draco let out a short laugh, then pointed at the pawn in the last row, only a few fields away from the goal. “You still need to overtake your sister.”

Lily stuck her tongue out at her brother, and then grinned broadly. “I'm going to win this round. And then we let Draco win. Everyone wins a round...”

“That's not how the game works!”

“Draco!”

Startled from the unexpected interruption, all three turned towards the kitchen door and saw Ginny coming out, looking agitated.

“Mum!” James cried out with a hint of fapprehension in his voice; his sister, however, stayed calm.

Draco got up to meet Ginny on her level, making sure Lily remained seated on the sofa. “Everything okay?”

After a second or two of heavy silence, Ginny shook her head. “Did you know about... about _her_... you know?”

He simply nodded. Her agitation could only mean that Hermione had told her. “For about a week now–”

“And why didn't you say something?”

“It's not mine to tell. Believe me, I was just as shocked when I found out.”

“What's going on, Mum? Why are you angry?” James asked, taking a step back, towards Draco.

“It's nothing, my dear,” she replied after a deep breath, brushing over her hair, and then turned towards Draco with a thin-lipped smile. “I think it's better _you_ go back in. I'll watch the children.”

He nodded in understanding. “I can stay if you want. It's Lily's turn...”

“I'm fine. Just go.”

Draco didn't move right away, but watched her sit down in front of the game, cheering Lily when she saw that the girl was about to win. Only when he saw that she was seemingly calming down did he finally walk away and into the kitchen. Despite wanting to be part of it, he still dreaded sitting next to Hermione while she talked about her ordeal. Given his previous reaction, he didn't know whether he could stomach it—the memories of the fights he saw at the pits were still vivid enough. Too vivid.

Hermione was wiping her eyes when Draco entered the kitchen, and she shrunk when she noticed him. “Sorry.”

“It's okay,” Harry said soothingly and then turned towards Draco with a questioning look.

“Your wife said I should come in,” Draco replied with a shrug, but he remained standing, watching her every move. “I can leave again–”

“No, it's okay,” Hermione stopped him with a deep sigh, curling up on her chair. “At least you know already.”

Unsure, Draco sat down, trying to keep a respectful distance, as she was already upset enough. However, the urge to take her hand and draw soothing circles on her palm was hard to keep under control, regardless of their own awkward situation.

“Please don't worry too much, Hermione,” Harry said, leaving his professional voice aside for a moment to just be her friend. “She'll understand.”

“What if everyone reacts like that?”

Draco caught her quick side-glance to him, the biting of her lower lip; he had never seen her so openly scared—her, the brave lioness. He had been shocked when he had figured it out, so Ginny probably went through the same. “They won't.”

His whispered words surprised her, and so she turned her head to face him for a moment, an insecure smile playing on her lips. “Thanks.”

“So,” Harry continued with a more professional tone to his voice, even though the tension was still audible. “You said they knocked you out and you woke up in a cell?”

She nodded, nibbling her lower lip again. “I didn't just wake up in a cell, I _was woken_ rather roughly with their Punishing Spell. It-It's like the Cruciatus, only it doesn't last as long...” She gulped. “They wanted to see my Creature.”

“What else did they do?” Even Harry's voice was cracking now, despite the displayed professionalism.

“The guards just loved dishing out the Punishing Spell... Besides that, they were a bit rough maybe, but nothing more. I was only scared when the boss wanted to see me. He's called The Hungarian... He's dangerous.”

Draco remembered the boss at the fight pit, he did have an Eastern European accent. “Did you...?”

To their shared dismay, Harry shook his head. “A few people escaped before we could get a hold on them. There's no one who speaks Hungarian or who is called that amongst those we caught.”

“No, no!” Hermione shook her head, trembling now from the memories. “He tortured me, Harry. Just as bad as Bellatrix back then. I was his new _pet,_ his-his new play thing...” She tried to continue, but her throat choked.

Without thinking twice about it, Draco reached for her closest hand to hold it; he was relieved when she didn't push him away, but instead grabbed it tightly, like a anchor to hold on to. “Did he...?”

The unspoken implication horrified them all; but to the relief of both men, she shook her head after a heavily silent second, her lips pressed into a thin line. “I... I didn't give up because I knew you'd be searching for me.”

Harry briefly smiled. “You have no idea how many from the DA wanted to be part of the raid, just because of you... But Draco helped the most.”

She smiled, squeezing Draco's hand in a silent thank you. “I'm glad to be back. I don't know how much longer I could have endured.”

“I'm sorry it took us so long–”

“There was a mole,” Draco said, ignoring Harry's warning glare. Instead, he focused on his thumb drawing soothing circles on her hand, as he could feel her tense up momentarily.

“Who?”

“You really had to mention that, Malfoy?” Harry straightened in his seat, huffing in irritation. “You know how–”

“WHO?”

“Riverside,” Harry replied in resignation. “He's going to pay for obstructing your rescue, believe me. But right now, he is in isolation, until we have a solid case against everyone involved.”

Draco was surprised by the force Hermione used to squeeze his hand now. She might look frail and scared, but damn, she was trying to break his hand in her growing anger. “We did find you, that's what counts right now.”

“Draco, no. He _helped_ put me through all this. For fuck's sake, I had to kill people! _Kill or be killed_!”

“I saw some of those fights, I know!” He pulled his pained hand from her grip, rubbing it briefly before crossing his arms. “And believe me, I would have cursed him into oblivion if Potter hadn't stopped me.”

“His _Sectumsempra_ barely missed Riverside–”

“The _Sectumsempra_?!”

“Yes,” Draco grumbled, irritated by the surprisingly condescending tone in her voice as she stared at him with questioning eyes. “That or the Cruciatus.”

But instead of having a go at him, her face softened into another shy smile. “Thanks.”

* * *

 

It was evening when Draco finally knocked at the door to Hermione's safe place, flexing his fingers nervously. The rest of the testimony had been hard to bear for all of them, as Hermione told them details of her fights, or what The Hungarian had done to her. Going through the whole ordeal in detail once more had left her devastated, a shaking mess even. Yet, she hadn't allowed for either of them to comfort her—she only wanted to go back to her place and be left alone for the rest of the day.

He knew that Tibby would take good care of her, but he was still worried and wanted to make sure she was okay. That was why he was now standing in front of her door, waiting for her to open.

However, it was Tibby who answered the door, smiling as she recognised him. “Welcome back, Master. Mistress said Tibby can let Master in...”

“Thanks.” With a relieved sigh, he entered the place. However, he stopped in the corridor as his magic reacted to the presence of hers, just as it had done in her office; the knot in his throat was back.

“Mistress is in the back,” the house-elf said, pointing towards the door on the other side of the corridor, from where a faint warm light came. “Master still wears his coat!”

Despite his eagerness to reach the room, he was hit with a wave of apprehension as he stepped into the kitchen area, carefully approaching the area with the dining table and the sofa in the corner. He stopped as soon as he saw her, all cuddled up on the sofa, a book in her lap. “I... Hello.”

“Hello again”, Hermione replied with a nervous smile as she put the book on the nearby window sill where already other books were placed. “I wasn't sure you'd come at all.”

“Master still wears his coat,” Tibby piped in as she reached them, and tugged gently at Draco's coat. She was clearly expecting him to stay longer than just a couple of minutes.

“I said I'd come... and after everything today, I wanted to know how you're doing.”

“I'm fine,” she replied with an embarrassed blush. “ _My_ fine... But I was about to make some tea.” She pointed towards the kitchen area after getting up. “It-It would be nice if you stayed for a cup.”

“Tibby can make the tea for Mistress.”

“Just take care of his coat, please.” She smiled in embarrassment, only to let out a relieved sigh when he indeed handed his coat to the elf. “I'm sorry. She's as lovely as I remember her, but I'm used to do things myself.”

He nodded, only to move out of her way as she went over to the kitchen area; the table seemed like a safe alternative. “How... How was your afternoon?”

“I took a nap. The potion they gave me at St. Mungo's really helps,” she replied as she put the kettle on the stove before opening a cupboard to get a set of cups. To her apparent dismay, it was the wrong one, so she looked into the next one. “And you remembered some of my favourite books, thanks for that.”

Not knowing where to position himself, he sat down at the table, running his hands over the aged, slightly rough surface while he kept watching her work at the counter. “I remember a lot more.”

She smiled softly at his words. “I would love to go to my place and bring a few things over. Clothes and some other things.”

“Just take someone with you.”

“I will.” A subtle scent of peppermint waved through the kitchen as she filled the hot water into the cups, before bringing them over. “I hope you don't mind the choice of tea. But I sleep better leaving out black tea in the evening...”

With a brief smile, he accepted the cup she was offering him, careful not to touch her unnecessarily. “I'm sorry about last night–”

“Don't be, please.” She returned to her previous spot on the sofa, keeping the cup in her hand as she placed the cover over her legs; he had the impression that she did it to momentarily avoid his gaze. “I'm really grateful for everything you've done to find me. It means a lot.”

Draco studied her as she continued to fuss with the cover. He felt the urge to sit down next to her on the sofa and grasp for her hand, remembering how it had felt earlier during her testimony, as horrid as the moment had been. Holding it, he had felt an odd peace in his soul, while his heart had been running wildly. After leaving the Potter house, he had ached for that peace all afternoon. Now, in her presence, he could feel a hint of it. But, and it was a big but, the table felt safer. Safer for him.

“We...” She sighed as she lifted her cup to her lips to blow over it. “We don't have to talk, okay? It's difficult enough to find something that isn't... you know?”

He nodded, bringing his own cup to his lips, relishing in the peppermint scent for a moment. “What were you reading today?”

The relief in her sigh was clearly audible in response to his offer to talk about books as a safe topic for the evening; with a smile she took a sip from her tea before she reached for the book with her free hand to show him. “Agatha Christie, although those are just some short stories...”


	21. Willow Wands And Orders Of Merlin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A quiet chapter again, mostly to show Hermione trying to settle in her new place as well as the continuously strained contact with Draco. Don't worry too much; the big talk is going to happen! (I'm currently about three or four chapters ahead...)
> 
> As always, my huge thanks go to luunascope for finding the time to proofread the chapter despite her life becoming exhaustingly busy! <3 <3 Thank you!  
> And to all those lovely ladies who keep listening to my doubts and ramblings, and who answer my many questions with a lot of patience! Debbie, Katie, Lis, and Amy—love you all to pieces!
> 
> Now, enjoy!

“Well, well... What an honour, Miss Granger.”

Hermione had barely entered Mr Ollivander's wand shop when he greeted her with a surprisingly empathetic smile; she blushed and quickly looked behind her to make sure Draco came in as well. He had agreed to escort her when everyone else already had other plans this morning, albeit rather reluctantly.

“And good morning, Mr Malfoy.” Ollivander came forth from behind the desk to greet them both properly before walking to the door to switch the sign to ‘ _closed’_. “I'm glad to see you brought her back safely.”

Draco opened his mouth for a reply, but Hermione silenced him with a glance. “Thanks for agreeing to receive me privately; it is highly appreciated.”

Ollivander nodded and returned to his desk. “I remember the day you bought your first wand. Vine, dragon heartstring, 10 ¾ inches, and unyielding. A remarkable wand for a highly remarkable witch...”

“Yes,” Hermione replied, following the old man to the desk; she felt as nervous as the first time she had been in here, although this time, she knew the procedure. “It was taken from me, and I don't know whether I'll ever get it back.”

“Yes, yes...” Without paying her explanation too much attention, Ollivander entered the shelf area of his shop, filled with wands over wands, immediately looking at labels while talking to himself in an incomprehensive murmur.

Hermione turned back to the entrance of the shop, where Draco was standing, watching everything from afar. She was still getting used to his presence, but after spending the last two evenings discussing the books she had read that day, it started to feel less awkward. However, the subject of their break-up still loomed over them, and they would have to discuss it sooner rather than later.

Draco nodded towards the desk when Ollivander returned with a first box, then leaned against the wall next to the entrance.

“I don't think vine still fits you, Ms Granger,” Ollivander said as he handed her the first wand to try. “Ash, with a dragon heartstring. If you would be so nice as to give it a swirl...”

The moment she touched the wood, she knew ash wood wasn't going to work out—it felt stubborn, not complying. Yet, she tried to cast a spell. “ _Orchideous._ ”

“No, I can see that won't work...” Ollivander snatched the wand from her hand as the resulting bouquet wasn't worth mentioning and returned to the shelves, murmuring to himself. “Maybe with a unicorn hair? No...”

Hermione was surprised when she saw him return moments later with two boxes containing wands. Curious, she watched him unpack the first one—black and with a slight shine to it.

“Ebony. Dragon heartstring. I'm not sure about this, but then, it's the wand that chooses the wizard, right?”

Hermione reached for the wand he held out for her, only to look back to Draco who simply nodded with the briefest of smiles. It felt reassuring, so she tried to repeat her spell with the ebony wand. The wood felt more comfortable in her hand, but it still wasn't a perfect match. “ _Orchideous._ ”

“Better, but still not perfect.” Ollivander again snatched the wand out of her hand without any further explanation. Moments later, he handed her wand in a rich light brown. “Willow. Again, dragon heartstring. This one showed the strongest pull...”

Simply holding the wand in her hand was a revelation—this one was perfect! She could feel a sense of completeness roll through her whole body, causing goose bumps to erupt all over her skin; she couldn't help but smile in relief. Grasping it firmly, she turned around towards Draco, only to aim in his direction with a quick raise of her eyebrow. “ _Orchideous._ ”

The wand produced one of the most beautiful bouquets of flowers she had ever seen; Draco caught it just in time.

Even Mr Ollivander smiled as she returned her attention to him. “Willow is said to have healing powers, Ms Granger. From the little I heard, you have a lot of healing to do.”

She nodded and glanced over to Draco who looked out of the window to check the street, absentmindedly fiddling with the bouquet in his hands. Ollivander was right, she had a lot of healing to do, and some of it was going to be painful. But right now, she was happy to have a wand once more, as it made her feel complete and able to defend herself.

 

Shortly after, they were back on the street which only started to fill with other wizarding folk out to get their shopping done; Draco was carrying the box that contained everything that she had eventually purchased at Ollivander's—except for the wand which she had immediately placed in its usual pocket hiding in her winter coat. They had even kept the bouquet she had produced with her new wand.

“Thanks for coming along,” she said, turning around as he walked behind her with a rather pensive expression on his face. She had caught him many times trying to hide it as soon as she looked at him during his visits for a tea. “A Sickle for your thoughts.”

He shook his head, only to hide his thoughts behind a smile before he checked the time on his watch. “If we hurry, we can bring your items back to your place before they want to see us at the Ministry.”

She smiled softly when she heard the concern in his voice. “I'm feeling good, there's no need to be worried, okay?”

He stopped mid-step to look at her, his eyes again a stormy grey which made her gasp silently; this time, he wasn't hiding anything.

“I'm sorry, I didn't mean to–”

“Just... let it be.” He sighed deeply and rubbed his face with his free hand. “There's no use discussing things right now, as much as we _should_.”

“Draco, that's not what–”

“I'm not going to repeat this, so listen... It's nice to be back on speaking terms, that you no longer run away, okay?” he said with a crack in his voice; clenching his jaw, he glared at her as if he was daring her to interrupt him. “That doesn't mean I don't have a load of things I want to tell you, things I think you need to hear before we can make _any_ progress from this little dance we're having right now. But _now_ is not the time... Not with the press conference at the Ministry.”

She opened her mouth to say something, but then decided not to continue the topic; he was right, _now_ was not the time to talk about it, as much as she could see his desire to do exactly that. “Let's go straight to the Ministry, then. We can put my things in my office, and maybe we still have some time for a quick cup in the cafeteria.”

Swallowing hard, he nodded in acceptance of her peace offering and then continued to walk towards the Leaky Cauldron.

Hermione could see how tense he was, how much it took him to remain calm—the slowly established comfort between them gone within moments, painfully reminding her of the thin line they were continuously walking ever since her rescue. She simply wished she could give him the peace he longed for, but life—and their relationship—had never been simple.

* * *

 

Hermione was greeted by the sight of the Weasley family waiting when she entered the Auror Department with Draco behind her. They hadn't said a word on the rest of their way here, but she was glad that he was her escort, keeping everyone at bay who wanted to ask her a few questions as they made their way across the atrium.

“Hermione!” a chorus of voices exclaimed as they saw her—Molly came towards her for an embrace, with Ron and his brothers following suit, all of them wearing a relieved and happy smile.

Overwhelmed with the prospect of being buried in a group hug, Hermione stepped backwards until she came in contact with Draco who kept her from losing her balance. Surprised at the touch of his hand against her shoulder, she looked at him. “Thanks.”

He shrugged. “I'll bring your items to your office.”

Still focused on watching Draco walk over, she was pulled into an embrace by Molly; for a few seconds, she tried to break free, but then she just let the Weasley matriarch hold her tight, focusing on her breathing as long as she was held like that.

“I'm so happy to see you again,” Molly said with tears in her eyes as she finally let go again.

“Yeah, she did that little happy dance when I told her,” Ron added with a smirk, standing behind his mother. “Though Dad thought she was about to burn the house down–”

“Ronald!” Molly exclaimed, throwing him a mock stern look before stepping aside.

Hermione couldn't help but laugh out loud. “Sorry...” She took a deep breath, only to shake her head at the other Weasleys as they opened their arms for an embrace. “Please, no more hugs. I love you all and I appreciate the thought, but I've just escaped hell, so I need some time to get used to everything again.”

“It's okay,” George said, giving his younger brother a swat on the shoulder for still trying to hug her, grinning at the resulting pained yelp.

“Boys, please!” Molly said with a disbelieving sigh before she leaned towards Hermione, her gaze directed towards Hermione's office. “He doesn't look too happy.”

Hermione followed Molly's gaze, only feel a pang of guilt in her chest as she saw Draco lean against the frame, watching the whole scene from afar. “It's... It's fine. Just complicated.”

“He _knows_?”

She nodded, averting her gaze to the floor. “I wish I could tell him I'm sorry, but I'll only hurt him more with that.”

“I'm sure you'll find a way.” With that, Molly walked over to Draco, leaving Hermione to her own thoughts.

However, Hermione didn't really have the time to gather her thoughts, to mentally prepare for the press conference they came here for, as Harry discovered her seconds later.

“You made it,” he said with a warm smile, briefly motioning in for a hug before he remembered not to. “How was your trip to Ollivander's?”

Returning his smile, she shrugged. “It's nice to have a wand again. How is... How is Ginny? I haven't seen her here.”

“She'll be here for the press conference,” he replied with a reassuring tone. “She was just shocked, and maybe a tiny bit disappointed, that's all.”

“You talked to her–”

“Oh yes... She was even pissed at me, believe me. Just give her some time.”

Hermione nodded, looking over everyone present with a shy smile, eventually arriving in Draco's corner; she was relieved to see a smile briefly brighten his otherwise sombre face, though he discreetly shook his head when Molly opened her arms for a grateful hug.

She felt like an idiot for not being able to find the words to explain why she had done what she had done, for not knowing how to apologise for all the pain she had caused and would cause. But above all, she struggled to believe that he knew and _still_ came to her rescue, as if it didn't count for him...

“Do you feel up to sit on stage? Or do you want some Calming Draught before we leave? I think I still have some from St. Mungo's here.”

“Honestly, I don't know,” she replied with an unsure smile towards Harry. “But I think as long as nobody gets too close, I might be fine.”

“Okay, then let's go, because they will start soon.” With that, he indicated with a big wave to follow him upstairs into the biggest room available for media events.

 

“Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for attending the press conference in such a big number,” Minister Shacklebolt said as he entered the stage with a professional smile, although he briefly winked at Hermione who was still standing at the side, covered by a curtain. “I won't bore you with one of my usual speeches, because no words can adequately describe the relief I felt upon hearing the best news in years. Instead, I'll give the word to Mr Potter, the Head of the Auror Department. He will also answer any questions you have.”

Hermione took a deep breath, as she started to feel nervous about being presented in a matter of moments. Trembling, she reached behind her, knowing that Draco was standing there in his urge to keep an eye on her, acting like her bodyguard. She let out a small gasp when he did take her hand into his without any further comment; she had hoped for it but never thought he would actually reach out, as upset as he seemed earlier.

Focused on the feel of his hand wrapped around hers, Hermione didn't pay much attention to what Harry was telling the press crowd. It was mostly details about the whole case anyway, things she didn't necessarily need to hear again. And she didn't look forward to being presented on stage any moment now, it made her feel uneasy—the urge to just flee back to her safe place was growing with every breath she took. Even her creature wanted to flee. Only the touch of Draco's hand kept her from following the urge—and the feeling of safety and calmness it provided.

“That's your cue,” Draco whispered behind her, gently nudging her.

“Wh-what?” Startled, she turned her head, only to see him nod towards the spotlight; as she followed his gaze, she could see Harry standing there with his arm stretched out and waiting for her to come on stage.

“Go.”

She tried to cling on to his hand as he let go of her, but she quickly gave up and instead took a deep breath before taking a first step towards the stage. After one last look back, she put on her bravest smile and joined Harry on stage.

“You okay?” Harry asked, his voice barely audible over the many questions thrown at her by the press crowd. “It won't take long, I promise.”

Clenching her jaw, which gave her smile a forced expression, she nodded. Her creature was screeching in her head, desperate to get away. The sounds and the light were almost like a déjà-vu, all that was missing was the wretched smell of blood and gore. She was glad to sit down at the small table just next to Harry, as her knees were shaking more violently the longer she stood there with all eyes on her.

“Ms Granger, you look surprisingly well given the tale of your rescue Mr Potter has just given us,” a strawberry blond witch in the second row asked with a friendly but still professional smile. “How have you been since the rescue? I can imagine that settling back into your life will be hard after such an experience.”

“Thanks,” Hermione said, trying to sound calm. “I used the chance to sleep in and read a bit. Mr Potter won't let me return to my job anytime soon, anyway. He's not going to make an exception just because I'm one of his oldest friends...”

Harry let out a brief laugh in response to her words; it helped to ease her tension a tiny bit, and she smiled.

“Would you be able to give us a few details of your imprisonment?” a younger wizard asked in the front row, his visible press badge showed his accreditation with the Daily Prophet.

“No details about the case,” Harry said before Hermione had even fully processed the question; he threw a warning glare at the Daily Prophet reporter. “The investigation is still on-going, and the details are still classified. We will inform the public about any further results in due time.”

“What are your plans for now until you are allowed back to your job?” the strawberry blonde witch asked, her friendly smile unwavering as she looked at Hermione.

“I guess I have a lot of time now to finally read all those books on my list,” Hermione replied, “and to bring some things in order.”

Another wizard in the back raised his hand for a question, dark-haired and with olive skin. “We heard about the involvement of an outside person in the case. What can you tell us about this?”

Hermione froze in her seat as she saw the wizard stand up, thrown back into the memory of her last encounter with The Hungarian—only the voice was different, smoother and with a warmer timbre. She clung to this fact as she sat there at the conference desk, taking several deep breaths.

“You okay?” Harry asked in a whisper. “Let me know if you want to leave–”

“I'm fine,” she replied with a dismissive glare, relieved as the threat of a panic attack finally ebbed away.

The reporter repeated his question, this time with a more impatient tone; Harry quickly looked over to the side where Draco was still waiting; they shared a dislike for reporters. “Yes, there was a civilian involved in the rescue of Ms Granger—an old friend who had offered his help.”

Minister Shacklebolt reclaimed the lead on stage, to Harry's visible relief. “Would Mr Draco Malfoy please join us on the stage as well? His involvement has been crucial to the success of the case, and the Ministry would like to honour it.”

There was a surprised murmur in the press audience, only intensifying when Draco came into the spotlight. Hermione turned around to see the men shake hands and exchange a few words of appreciation.

“Mr Malfoy,” Shacklebolt continued; even Hermione now stood up in honour of the situation. “In deep appreciation of your mostly selfless commitment to do everything to find Ms Granger, the Ministry wants to award you with the Order of Merlin, First Class–”

“Minister, this... this isn't necessary,” Draco protested politely, trying to hide his shocked surprise. “I just did what I had to do.”

Without thinking twice, Hermione reached for his hand to stop him from fidgeting further, glad that he immediately twined his fingers with hers as he took a deep breath. In addition, the renewed skin contact helped her settle her own uneasiness that had remained after her small flashback.

“Take it,” she whispered, “you've done it for all the right reasons.”

“You think?”

She nodded, her lips tentatively curling into a reassuring smile. “And I'm glad you did.”

* * *

 

It was already getting dark outside when Tibby tiptoed into the kitchen where Hermione was cuddled up on the corner sofa, relaxing over another Agatha Christie crime novel and a cup of tea. “Mistress?”

“Yes, Tibby?” Hermione replied without looking up. She was nearing the revelation where Poirot would reveal the murderer. She never thought that Agatha Christie would one day help her calm down after an unsettling day—but then, reading always had. That and a decent dose of the Calming Draught the Healers at St. Mungo's had prescribed her as soon as she had returned here.

“Mistress has a visitor at the door. Has red hair. Says is a friend of the Mistress.”

Now Hermione looked at the house-elf standing next to the sofa. “A woman?”

The house-elf nodded. “Tibby can tell the woman to go away, that Mistress is not feeling well enough to receive anyone.”

“No, no. It's okay.” Unsure herself, Hermione placed the book on the small shelf space in the wall before getting up. “Let her in. Tell her I'm here.”

With a relieved smile, Tibby left the kitchen again to let her visitor in.

Hermione meanwhile, got up to prepare everything for a pot of tea, wondering what Ginny might have to say. The day had unsettled her enough, especially the brief flashback that had overwhelmed her for a moment; she wasn't sure she could cope with any more unsettling situations.

“Hey...” Ginny entered the kitchen with a reluctant step, twining her fingers in front of her because she didn't know what else to do with them. “I'm sorry to come without any notice.”

“It's okay. I was reading.” Hermione filled the kettle with water and placed it on the stove that she ignited moments later with a wave of her new wand. “Just sit down; the tea will be ready in a moment.”

With a nod, Ginny walked over, opening her coat to hang it over the chair. “The place looks nice.”

“Draco's idea of a safe place... Though I still want to collect some things over at my own flat.” Hermione shrugged, though she couldn't help but smile briefly. The house started to feel like home now, a place she could feel safe in. “Is peppermint okay?”

Ginny nodded again, only to then put her head in her hand. “He deserved that Order of Merlin.”

“You were there?” The kettle whistled, demanding Hermione's attention; moments later, she came to the table with a small tray, balancing the full pot, two mugs and whatever might be added.

“In the back. You probably didn't see me.” Ginny smiled softly as Hermione sat down on the other side of the table. “Watching you sit there made me realise that I haven't been fair to you. I mean, it was a shock to hear that... that–”

“–that I am a monster?”

“Harry told me what he knew,” Ginny said with a firm shake of her head. “You're not a monster. I'm really sorry that I made you think I'd considered you one. Hermione, you're still my best friend, okay? I just wish you would have told me as well, not just Harry.”

A choking knot made it impossible for Hermione to respond at first, so she nodded violently. To distract herself, she reached for the pot to finally pour the tea into the mugs, after letting it brew for a few minutes.”I’m sorry for that.”

Ginny accepted it with a shrug. “Is... Is that why you... and Draco...?”

Again, Hermione nodded, holding the pot tight in her hands as she filled Ginny's mug. “It's complicated.”

“Oh, I know. I've talked to him a few times after he joined Harry in the search... Just give him time, okay? Let him say what he needs to say... I'm sure he'll understand eventually.”

“I hope so.”

“He still cares a lot for you, so I'm sure he will understand. I mean, he still gave you this place, and he was at the press conference today.” Smiling reassuringly, Ginny lifted her mug to her lips to have a first sip of her tea.

“I can show you around later if you want...” Hermione sipped some of her tea as well, relishing the soft taste of the peppermint tea on her tongue and the relaxing scent.

“I'd love to!” Ginny leaned back in her chair as she took another sip of her tea. “By the way, Lily wanted me to tell you that she wants to see you again. She misses playing with you, you know? She just loves all the attention she gets from you because James already has his uncles...”

“When I feel good enough again.” Hermione put her mug back on the table, though she kept playing with it absent-mindedly. “Did she finish the book I gave her?”

“Twice even!”


	22. Libraries And Bad Jokes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it, the chapter that culminates into that big emotional talk between Draco and Hermione. I waited long enough to write that scene, as everything else that follows is build on that moment. And yes, I'm that cruel at the end of the chapter...
> 
> My thanks:  
> To my beta _luunascope_ for finding the time to proofread the chapter despite her own hectic schedule.
> 
> Another big thank you to _BrilliantLady_ for providing feedback on the talk scene—you definitely gave me some insights! :-)
> 
> And last but not least, another big hug to my ladies who keep me motivated and who are patient enough to answer my questions as well as listening to my ramblings and doubts while writing. Love you, _Debbie, Katie, Linda_ , and _Evora_!
> 
> Now, enjoy!

It was lunchtime the day after the press conference, and Draco was waiting impatiently for his mother to arrive at the restaurant she had mentioned during her brief Floo call in the morning; she had sounded surprisingly friendly during the few words they exchanged—surprising mostly because of the last time they had spoken, when she had threatened him with the mental ward.

Narcissa's arrival in the restaurant, as usual making a few men turn their heads, pulled Draco from his thoughts. “My dear son...”

“Mother...” He got up to greet her properly with a brief kiss on her cheek while a waiter was ready to help her get seated. “How is France?”

“Chilly at this time of the year, but still warmer than here...”

He leaned back, momentarily relieved about the friendly tone in his mother's voice who accepted the menu card the waiter handed her. Seconds later, the waiter handed him the second menu before bowing discreetly before leaving their table, as they would need a moment to choose.

Narcissa closed her menu to look at him, one of her proud motherly smiles on her lips. “Congratulations on that Order of Merlin... You're the first in the family to receive it—at least without bribing anyone.”

“I didn't do it for the award, you know that,” he replied with a brief sigh, even though he couldn't help but feel a tiny bit proud about it; he would just never admit it.

“I know, my dear. The article in the Daily Prophet was actually nice about it all for once, given the usual tone they use when they write about us. _Saviour of the day_ I think they called you at some point or other...” She re-opened her menu to have a look at the dishes. “I have to say the chicken sounds delicious.”

He looked down at his menu and nodded. The chicken did sound delicious, but he felt more like some beef and gratin the restaurant was famous for. After a quick look over the edge of his menu to watch her go through the dishes, he skipped to the wines. His mother never chose the wine they were having—before it had been his father who chose the wine, now it was up to him to find a wine for both of them. It was just how his family worked.

They only resumed their conversation after the waiter had taken their orders—chicken and asparagus for Narcissa, and a beef filet for Draco, and a Montepulciano to go with it.

“You told me this morning in your glorious grumpy self that you've talked with Hermione–”

“We have contact, but we didn't _talk_ yet.”

She raised her eyebrow sceptically. “Why not? I thought that's what you wanted?”

Draco hid his irritation behind a tired smile. “Mother, I found her in a prison cell, probably just moments before she was supposed to fight again. Even _you_ wouldn't be that cruel...”

“But–”

“Don't,” he stopped her with a shake of his head. “It's already hard enough.”

“Fine,” she retorted, probably snappier than she intended.

Draco was glad for the wine to arrive as it provided a momentary distraction from the mood of his mother. The Montepulciano proved to be an excellent choice, rich in body with the right fruity subtlety that would suit both their dish choices. “To the Order of Merlin.”

“To the Malfoy family.” Narcissa relished in the scent of her wine before taking a deliberate sip from the glass. “Good choice.”

He smiled at her remark before having some of his wine, sipping slowly. “You didn't request lunch for the congratulations, right?”

“No.” She placed her glass back on the table, shaking her head, before she Summoned an envelope from her small purse. “This is from your father. He asked me to give it to you when I visited him this morning after our little chat. He isn't happy that you refuse to listen to him about the situation. But you both are a bit stubborn...”

“I might have threatened him with the withdrawal of his library rights for the next three months...”

“Draco!”

Ignoring her exclamation, he reached for the letter she was still holding out for him. “I was exhausted of _everyone_ trying to tell me that I'm only an obsessed fool who doesn't recognise the risks.”

“I never–”

“ _You_ threatened me with the mental ward, Mother.” He put the envelope into the inside pocket of his suit, planning on reading it later when he was alone once more.

She relented with a sigh, albeit dramatically so. “About that... Blaise and I talked about it.”

Interested, he tilted his chin towards her. “Yes?”

“Look, we both think you should talk to a professional. The whole situation with Hermione isn't doing you any good. You know that I'm worried—I'm your mother, after all... Although, I might have overreacted in my worry, but Blaise and I both agree that you should at least go see your therapist again.”

“Dr Pendry, you mean?”

She nodded. “She really helped you, you know? Fix a session with her, and I won't mention the mental ward again.”

Their respective plates arrived, sparing Draco from having to respond to her request immediately. His beef looked divine, just like his mother's choice of chicken.

“So, are you going to fix a session with Dr Pendry?” she asked, placing the napkin on her lap before letting her fingers hover over the cutlery, anticipating his answer.

He placed his napkin deliberately slowly, mostly because he didn't want to answer her request at all. However, his choices were limited—either he would go see Dr Pendry, or she might reconsider delivering him to the mental ward. She _had_ that power over him. “Fine. I'll see if she has time to see me.”

“Good.” With a smile, she forked the first bite of her chicken and lifted it to her mouth. “Enjoy.”

 

_My dear son,_

_I was allowed to give your mother this letter, and I do hope it finds you. I understand that you don't want to talk about anything related to your former girlfriend, but today's news prompted me to contact you nonetheless._

_First of all, congratulations on receiving the Order of Merlin, First Class! It is a remarkable moment—the name of the Malfoy family is no longer associated purely with the Dark Arts!_

_Second, I've heard rumours in here about the operation, and I have to admit that I was astonished to hear that it was you who found_ her _, even though the place was swamped with Aurors. Yes, astonished is the right word, putting yourself in such a danger! Times have changed indeed..._

_I do, however, need to ask for a favour. You know that your mother still refuses to enter the Manor with all the horrible memories that are attached to it—I do understand her, yet I need some books and a few items from the library. The books in the prison library, as well as my very limited stack in my cell, are not enough for my studies. I have a list of books attached that I need and that are allowed by the guards._

_Lastly, from father to son, please be careful now! I'm worried that you might have tickled the wrong dragon with her rescue, so do take every precaution, and it might be better to stay out of sight for a while._

_Lucius_

* * *

 

Draco hated visits to the Manor just as much as his mother. Every time he came here for the bi-annual check, his magic would respond to the place, making him feel uneasy. The images of what had happened between those walls haunted his mind every time he was here—especially those memories of watching Hermione being tortured right there in the main hall. So yes, he hated visits to the Manor.

“Master Draco...” Penny greeted him at the door, visibly surprised to see him as he arrived the following day; she was the head of the house-elves caring for the huge empty building and its gardens.

Draco nodded, passing her on his way to the library, fumbling for his father's list of required books in the pockets of his robes. He just wanted to pass through the main hall as fast as he could, the uneasiness was enough already.

“Master doesn't want to check everything?” Penny asked as she followed him through the corridors to the library, sounding confused and struggling to keep up with his pace.

“No, not this time, Penny. My father only needs a few books.”

“Old Master still does his studies?”

Draco let out a sigh of relief when he finally reached the vast library, which had been the only place in the whole Manor that was seemingly left untouched by the Dark Arts lingering here. Even his uneasiness receded. He had spent countless hours in here in his youth, hiding away from the madness and terror reigning, to find a moment of peace amongst the books.

He draped his winter robes on the nearest chair before he went to the back to find the rows with the books his father had requested.

“Would Master like something to eat? A sandwich maybe?”

Having reached the middle of the first shelf row, Draco turned around with a tired smile. “I'm fine, Penny. I had something to eat earlier. But you could bring me a tea.”

To his relief, the house-elf nodded eagerly and finally left the library, letting him search the books in peace.

After another moment, he continued his way down to the back of the library. The scent was soothing, bringing up happier memories of visits here. Despite having been tortured in the main hall, Hermione had come along to the bi-annual check several times, and each time they had ended up in the library.

 

“ _Found anything interesting?” Draco asked with a teasing tone as he approached her; she was going through a shelf with huge ancient-looking tomes, her face full of awe._

“ _I think it says Malfoy Chronicles on the back,” she replied with a content sigh. She reached for his hands as he embraced her from behind. “I would love to have a look through them, you know? I mean, how many families can look up what their ancestors did in the 17_ _th_ _century, or even earlier?”_

_Adoring her fascination for all things historical, he kissed her cheek, even nibbling her jaw gently. “It's probably a boring read, though.”_

“ _You don't know that!” She chuckled and lifted one of her hands to run it over his head. “But really, you should find a solution for all those books, you know? It's a pity to see them hidden away like this.”_

“ _You know that I don't even know what to do with the Manor.”_

“ _Exorcise it?”_

“ _What? Are you serious?” he exclaimed with a loud laugh. “We watched that film last week, and you still keep sneaking it into conversations! Exorcisms don't work with Dark Magic...”_

“ _I know, my dear.” With a soft smile, she turned around in his arms before she placed a kiss on his lips, coaxing him gently to part his lips. “We'll find a solution for the Manor. If not, we can still burn it down.”_

“ _Hermione!” he let out in mocked exasperation and then claimed her lips in a deep, almost fervent kiss. Oh, he would burn down any manor if it meant she kept kissing him like that._

 

Draco needed longer than expected to find all the books on the list, as many corners and titles held fond memories of afternoons spent here. He was putting the last title on the reading table as the house-elf came back inside to check on him, her smile widening as she saw the empty mug.

“Master wants another cup?”

He shook his head and started minimizing the books so that he could carry them in the simple bag, a trick Hermione had used a lot in order avoid back problems. Maybe he should bring her the first tome of the Malfoy family chronicles? “I'll be back for the bi-annual check in a couple of months, but I can see that you do a great job, Penny.”

“Penny only does what Master demands.”

* * *

 

“Master Draco! Master Draco!”

It was late that night when Draco was pulled from his sleep by a frantic house-elf calling his name at the top of her lungs. He growled loudly in disapproval when she pulled his blanket off, still calling his name. Barely two hours of sleep after a day filled with memories, according to his alarm. “Tibby, I'm awake!”

“Master Draco needs to come over immediately! Mistress is not feeling well, and Tibby doesn't know how to help! Master Draco needs to come immediately!”

Draco was on his feet the moment the house-elf had mentioned that Hermione wasn't feeling well, reaching for his morning robe that hung over the footrest of his bed and his wand on the nightstand. “What exactly is wrong with her, Tibby?”

“Nightmares, Master Draco... The Mistress is having nightmares. Mistress is screaming and has fits. Tibby doesn't know how to calm Mistress!”

He knew from his own extensive experience that nightmares were always a bad sign—she had looked reasonably well over the last few days, except maybe for that brief panic attack during the press conference. Not wasting any more time, he used the Floo Network to reach Hermione's safe house.

As soon as Draco left the fireplace at her house, he could hear the screams and whimpers in her bedroom on the first floor. It was a terrible sound, one he thought he never had to hear again. She was suffering, caught in her worst memories.

It took him mere seconds to reach her bedroom.

She was tossing and whimpering; the whole bed a complete mess and the blanket about to fall on the floor.

He went over to the side of the bed where she was currently lying and grabbed her hand, surprised by her pulling him closer. “Shh... I'm here, my lioness. You're safe.”

Her whimpering ceased in response to his words that he kept repeating, and her breathing deepened. “My silver dragon...” Whispering those words, she pulled his hand close to her chest, cradling it like a stuffed animal.

His heart ached to see her like this, suffering in the dark. Right now, nothing was more important than to calm her down—her suffering had momentarily blown his anger away. Continuing to repeat his calming words, he managed to get his hand free from her hold so that he could climb in behind her.

As soon as she lost his touch, her whimpering returned, and she searched for his hand while murmuring his name again and again.

“I'm here... I'm not leaving.” With those words, Draco shifted to the middle of the bed; with a sigh, he remembered to place his wand on the nightstand on _his_ side before he finally pulled Hermione closer who had started to toss around once more. “Shh... You're safe.”

With his arms around her frame, Hermione finally calmed down and even moved closer into his embrace. She twined her fingers with his, and after a deep sigh, she changed into a more peaceful sleep.

Tibby finally came into the bedroom, still scared from the events. “Mistress has calmed down.”

Draco nodded without turning around, lest he'd have to let go of Hermione. “Blanket...”

“Yes, Master Draco.” The house-elf quietly pulled the blanket over them, making sure they are both covered up to the shoulders. “Tibby will go back to her room now.”

Again, Draco nodded, adding a small smile this time. He finally relaxed as the house-elf left the room, his senses overwhelmed by Hermione's proximity. Peace was what he felt—calming his soul, soothing his heart.

For the first time in years, he didn't fear to fall asleep.

 

The next morning, Draco woke with sunlight poking through the curtains. In the first moment, he was disoriented as to where he was and why he had slept in his morning robe. As he took a deep breath and stretched his legs, he noticed the faint scent of _her_ on the pillow.

He was at Hermione's safe place.

Only, the spot next to him was empty; the whole bed was empty. Although, given the situation between them, this was maybe the easier option.

After another stretch, he made it out of the bed, wondering where she was. Maybe there was a chance of him slipping back to his place without being noticed. It was such a damn weird situation—on one hand, he wanted to hurl all his pain and hurt of the last eight years at her; on the other hand, ever since they had rescued her, he felt drawn to her, drawn to that sense of peace her presence provided.

On his way down, he heard noises coming from the kitchen as well as a faint scent of coffee. It was now or never if he wanted to leave without her noticing. But then, he never had been someone to walk out on people without saying goodbye.

 _She_ was.

“Morning,” Hermione greeted him with a timid smile, her focus still on the couple of sausages in the frying pan, while Tibby was preparing everything else. “You looked so relaxed; I just wanted to let you sleep until everything is ready.”

As soon as Tibby saw him, the house-elf jumped off the counter. “Master is awake.”

“Yes,” he murmured. Rubbing the back of his head, he strolled over to the table.

“Tibby, slow down, okay? Just bring him his coffee,” Hermione said warningly when the house-elf nervously ran around. Keeping an eye on the sausages, she filled a mug the way she remembered he liked it and gave it to the elf.

Draco gladly accepted the mug, relishing in the scent. It had the perfect amount of milk in it, and the first sip was refreshing, lifting the usual morning fog on his mind. Continuing to drink his coffee, he watched her putting everything together on a tray to bring it over to the table. If it hadn't been for the eight years they had spent apart, he could have sworn it was just another Sunday morning they used to start with a late breakfast.

If only.

“Tibby told me about last night,” Hermione said with an apologising tone as she placed the tray on the table, ready to distribute the different items and dishes. “Thanks for coming over. I–”

“Did you have those nightmares before?” Watching her over the rim of his mug, he finished his coffee.

“Not as violent as last night. I must have forgotten to take the Sleeping Potion before I went to bed.” Biting her lip, she helped herself to a couple of spoons of scrambled eggs before she offered the bowl with the eggs to him. “I've been reading too long.”

“You always did.” Now feeling more awake, he helped himself to eggs, a couple of sausages, and hash browns—Tibby must have made them because they looked perfect. “It sounded like you were dreaming about a fight...”

“ _My_ fights, actually,” she replied with a deep sigh. “I can distract myself enough throughout the day, but those images come back at night. The potion lets me sleep decently at least, but they still haunt me.”

He studied her intently for a moment while chewing on a first bite of hash browns. The fights he had seen had been gruesome, yet he could barely imagine how she coped with the fact of having killed her opponents to survive.

“Yeah, well...” She shrugged and then dug into her own breakfast.

The rest of the breakfast was spent in silence; only Tibby broke it from time to time to offer refills or to ask whether they'd need something else. The silence was otherwise the most comfortable option, because dwelling too much on the past was dangerous to old wounds, and recent events were too horrible to talk about. So silence it was.

 

Finished with her second helpings of breakfast, Hermione leaned back with her mug of coffee in her hands. She smiled timidly, but her insecurity was all over her face—and underneath it all, the horror of the nightmares could still be glimpsed. They were both unsure in that moment, as to how to continue the conversation and just watched Tibby collect the dishes.

“I missed those mornings,” Hermione finally whispered, her eyes widening as soon as she realised what she had just let out.

“Then why did you leave?” Draco asked, cringing as he noticed the harsh tone of his voice. As much as he had dreamed about hurling his pain at her, this wasn't how he wanted to start. “Why?”

“Tibby, please leave the kitchen,” Hermione said, sounding apprehensive. She placed her mug on the table and crossed her arms; however, she avoided his gaze. “You can finish the cleaning later.”

Growing impatient because this was the moment he had waited for all those damn years, Draco watched the house-elf reluctantly leave the kitchen before he returned his attention to the witch in front of him. “I repeat, why?”

“Is that all you want to know?”

“Yes... I want to know why you found it easier to put us _both_ through years of misery instead of simply talking to me about whatever happ–”

“I was scared, Draco!” Hermione cried out, her voice cracking and her head defiantly turned to the side. “Re-Remember the accident that had me in St. Mungo's for a week?”

He nodded slowly. “I thought I'd lose you.”

Her smile in response to his words was sad. “I couldn't tell you back then what happened, I was afraid you'd freak out even more. So I tried to live with that _thing_ inside me, and with that constant fear it might take over.”

He recognised the same pain he had nurtured through the years, and for a split second, he longed to reach for her hand to soothe her, just like he had done in Potter's kitchen. Yet, this time, he resisted the urge; instead, he crossed his arms. “Hermione, I want to know. What happened? How? And... and why did you try to hide it? You know damn well that you owe me an explanation.”

“Yes, I know!” Her eyes were teary but fuelled with anger as she finally looked at him. “I just didn't know _how_ to tell you... Because as much as you said you loved me, you were still a goddamn arse–”

“How much _I said_ I loved you?” He couldn't hold back a growl at the implication of those words. “I can't believe you ever doubted my love for you. I was always there whenever you needed me. And you know I would have raised hell for you... No, wait. I _did_ , or you wouldn't be sitting here.”

“Draco, you can be a damn arse to people you think are beneath you! Merlin knows I tried to change it...” Now Hermione leaned forward as well, her tone changing from hurt to irritated; she narrowed her eyes at him, their usual shade of brown turning into black.

“Don't make this about me, Hermione! I'm not the one who has to explain things...”

For a few seconds, she simply stared at him, her jaws clenching. “It's scary to be turned into some sort of Creature and you don't know how to control it. It's exhausting to live with the fear that every second, it could take over and reveal itself, destroying everything we had in a single moment–”

“It never showed.”

She shook her head, her eyes fixed on him. “Sheer luck, I guess. And you were pretty occupied with your own problems, so you weren't so attentive either. At least not as much as you usually were.”

He nodded; he did remember those days, vividly so. “Purcell and his personal vendetta–”

“You know that Purcell was a werewolf–”

“And? He tried to stick a case of _possession of a Dark Object_ on me, and I'm not taking those kinds of accusations lightly.”

Hermione took a deep breath; her knuckles were white from the pressure in her grip on her arms. “I was about to tell you because I thought you would indeed understand. And then you made that derogatory joke about Purcell...”

“A JOKE?”

“Yes.”

“ _THAT_ IS THE REASON FOR LEAVING ME? A DAMN JOKE?!”


	23. Do You Remember What You Said?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I was cruel enough to let the previous chapter end on a cliffhanger, I thought I'd be nice enough to post this chapter earlier than scheduled... ;-)
> 
> Thanks to everyone leaving a comment! You all manage to make my day a little brighter whenever I see the notification in my inbox, and I cherish them all, even though I might not respond to all of them.
> 
> And last but not least:  
> Thanks to _diebirchen_ for being such a lovely person to jump in as a beta! Your remarks on my overuse of semicolons had me laugh. ;-) (Thanks, _luunascope_ , for all you were able to do as a beta! Wishing you all the best...)  
> In addition, thanks to _BrilliantLady_ for her insights on the talk scene, and many hugs to the lovely bunch of ladies who have the patience to answer my questions and listen to my doubts and ramblings. _Debbie, Katie, Linda, Amy, and Evora_ , I love you all! :-*

“ _THAT_ IS THE REASON FOR LEAVING ME? A DAMN JOKE?!” Draco couldn't believe what he just heard; this couldn't be the reason for the break-up. Feeling the rage about to get the better of him, he got up, pacing frantically up and down. “EIGHT FUCKING YEARS OF MISERY BECAUSE OF A _JOKE_?”

“NO NEED TO SHOUT AT ME!” She got up as well, as always wanting to be on the same level during an argument. “BUT DO YOU EVEN _REMEMBER_ WHAT YOU SAID?”

He stopped mid-step to look at her. She was about as furious as he felt, the restraint visible on her face, and he thought he could see a predatory glint in her eyes. “How am I supposed to remember what I said back then?”

“ _He should be locked away in a silver cage where he can't come in contact with others and possibly transmit his madness._ Those were your _exact_ words, Draco. I can still hear the contempt in your voice when you said them. You were _disgusted_.”

“Goddamn it, woman!” he let out in exasperation, clenching his hands into fists. “I was frustrated, and I thought you of all people would understand. Hermione, he tried to stick a false claim on me that would have put me in Azkaban for the rest of my life!”

“I was scared!”

“YOU DIDN'T... You didn't say a word. How was I even supposed to know? Tell me!”

Hermione, however, didn't answer right away; she only continued to stare at him with an expression that seemed to put the blame on him. “I... I just thought it was better to break up because you wouldn't want to be with someone like me, a half-creature.”

“You thought? Why not let _me_ decide what I wanted?” The items on the counter started to shake in their  spots until Draco managed to bring his anger down a notch by concentrating on his breath for a moment.

“Draco, what's–?”

“Have you any idea what you've done? Has _anyone_ told you what you put me through with your decision? What you put my friends through?” he said through gritted teeth, completely ignoring her shocked face. “You... You destroyed me. I was _this_ close to  giving up everything, because life without you wasn't worth it–”

“Oh my God! Did you try to...?”

He found her horrified outcry satisfactory because it seemed that she finally started to understand. It was finally sinking in. “You should have known better, Hermione! You should have trusted me and let _me_ decide whether I still wanted to be with you. But no, you took that decision from me. You and your bloody assumptions!”

“I–”

“NO! You still don't get it, do you? I DON'T FUCKING CARE WHAT YOU ARE! WE WOULD HAVE FOUND A WAY TO LIVE WITH IT!” As he shouted those words at her, the items on the counter not only started to shake violently; they even started to move, threatening to fall to the floor. “BUT YOU LEFT LIKE A FUCKING COWARD!”

“I KNOW! AND I WISH I COULD UNDO IT! I'M SORRY FOR EVERYTHING!”

“NO, YOU'RE NOT!” Everything in the room was moving now in response to Draco's seething rage. He knew that an outburst was about to happen, as he could feel it prickle violently under his skin. And damn, he revelled in the absolutely shocked and devastated expression on her face.

“Draco! Stop, please!”

“No, I can't stop it,” he said with a strained voice that made her take a step back. “Just-just leave the kitchen...”

She shook her head defiantly, even though the situation upset her. “I'm not leaving.”

Trying to cling to the last shred of control, he looked at her. “Please. I don't want you to get hurt. And...” He took a deep breath as he tensed up, the threat of the impending outburst about to overtake his senses. It was only a matter of moments now. “And I don't want you to see this.”

“I-I get it, Draco. I really wish I–OH MY GOD!”

The rest of her words was silenced by the sound of his magical outburst causing every loose item to break and shatter.

* * *

 

Mostly recovered from the outburst he experienced earlier, Draco paid a visit to his company in the afternoon. He was in dire need of a distraction because the talk with Hermione hadn't ended on a good note—she had been too shocked about his outburst, and he had been too hurt and upset for it to continue. So yes, he needed a distraction.

“Draco...” Blaise entered the President's office with a questioning look on his face. “I was surprised when the reception witch called to tell me you'd just entered the building–”

“I need to come back.” Draco turned around from the table he had been hovering over; he brushed through his hair before rubbing his neck in an absent-minded move. “I can't just sit around at home after... after...”

Blaise nodded in understanding and stepped closer. “Pansy told us what she knew with a few more details than the newspapers were allowed to publish. We're all glad that she's back safely, despite everything, okay?”

Draco appreciated the last words, knowing that Blaise was honest. After a deep sigh, he nodded and crossed his arms; he simply didn't know what else to do with them. He never did when he was nervous or upset. “Let me come back.”

“Mate, no. Not like that. And you know that I'm not the one deciding this, anyway. You'll have to convince my wife–”

“Where is she?”

“Draco, no. Seriously, I mean it.” Blaise came up to him at the desk, his questioning expression turning into a worried one. “You look like shit.”

“You would too after such a morning–”

“Draco!” Astoria showed up at the door, breathing heavily from running through half the company to get here. “How... How are you?”

Draco straightened back into a standing position, taking a step from the desk to gain some distance to avoid feeling cornered by them. “I want to come back.”

Astoria shared a look with Blaise, who simply shrugged in response. “Why?”

“I don't want to sit at home all day with nothing to do,” he replied, pacing up and down, close to growling at his friends for simply being such a well-working unit against him.

Astoria shook her head. “No. Not like that.”

“I told you, mate.”

“I need something else to think about!” Draco retorted loudly. “ _She_ is fucking everywhere, and my head won't shut up...”

“Draco!” Astoria let out as the objects closest to him started to shake. “Calm down, please...”

“I... we...” Choking on the rest of the words, Draco briefly closed his eyes and took a deep breath in the faint hope that the hold of the choke on his throat would lessen. It had taken him long enough to get back down to a manageable level after Apparating out of Hermione's place this morning; he didn't want to lose control again. Gods, he could still see the shock on her face as the realisation had dawned on her—it had been so satisfactory in that moment, but he knew that they weren't through it yet. Not by a long shot.

It was Astoria's surprisingly soft voice that pulled him from his thoughts. “Did you two finally have that _talk_?”

Draco nodded, feeling his body tremble slightly. He didn't protest when she pulled him towards the closest visitor's chair. “Left me because of a joke.”

“What?” Blaise asked surprised at his absent-minded remark and sat down next to him in the other visitor's chair while Astoria leaned against the desk.

“Nothing.” Draco shrugged dismissively; he wasn't going to discuss the details of the talk earlier with them. “Just let me come back. I'd do–”

“No, Draco. You're in no condition to shoulder any responsibilities right now,” Astoria stopped him with an appeasing but firm smile. “You're all overwrought and confused. We've been there before with you.”

“Please,” Draco said with a quiet voice, watching his fingers trace the small cuts on the back of his hands, a reminder of what had occurred earlier. “Just give me something I can focus on. I don't care what. I don't want to think about _her_ any more today...”

Astoria sighed sympathetically before she leaned down to his level. “I understand, I really do. But we all think it would be better for you to sort out your private life first. The company won't run away. We will still be here when everything has settled and you feel better again, okay?”

Draco nodded reluctantly. “You know, telling her was all I looked forward to, because I thought it would make me feel better. Why do I still feel so bad? Why hasn't it changed anything?”

“Mate, give it time,” Blaise piped in, nudging his elbow. “You two have too much history for it to be simple.”

“Have you talked to Dr Pendry?”

Draco finally looked up straight at Astoria, his brows furrowed. “She is full until Thursday next week. But she said she'd contact me if an earlier slot frees up...”

“Good,” Blaise said affirmatively. “Use it.”

Before anyone else could say anything, an owl arrived at the window, pecking impatiently to be let in. They looked at each other in puzzlement before Astoria finally went over to open the window.

“Treats are in the top drawer,” Draco said as she went through his desk while the bird held his leg out, a note attached to it.

“Thanks.” Moments later, Astoria had pulled the note off the bird's leg and gave him a couple of treats as a reward. “It's from Harry. And he doesn't sound too happy.”

“Ugh.” Draco slipped down in his chair. He couldn't deal with Potter's indignation right now.

“They can't find Hermione. She wasn't at that house you gave her...”

With that, Draco was on his feet and rushing over to Astoria to see the note for himself. This couldn't be true—she ran away again!

“He wants to know what happened between you two.”

* * *

 

“Oh, thank Merlin!”

Hermione had barely opened the door of her old flat when she was pulled into a tight hug by Ginny. “What?”

Smiling relieved, Ginny finally let go of her and passed inside. “I had a bit of time this afternoon, so I came over to your place. I mean, the one Draco gave you. You weren't there... You gave us a good scare!”

“Sorry.” Hermione led her friend to the living room. “But I had to get out of there.”

“What happened?” Ginny asked, sitting down in the armchair, letting her gaze wander through the room. “Did you have another panic attack?”

Hermione shook her head and curled up on the sofa. His outburst this morning had been a complete shock, and the whole situation had overwhelmed her, so she just had to get away. “We talked.”

“We?” Ginny furrowed her eyebrows, and then she widened her eyes as realisation hit her. “Oh. OH! You and Draco...”

“It was horrible.” Hermione pulled up the knitted throw next to her. She just felt safer underneath it, as if it could keep away all those images of the talk that were still circling through her mind, especially Draco just moments before his outburst with all that pain his eyes. It still made her throat choke thinking about it. So much pain, and she had caused it.

“And why are you here now?”

Hermione looked at Ginny, confused for a moment, before she sighed. “He's never been here. His magic is almost everywhere in that house, and I couldn't bear it. Gods, he exploded!” She rubbed her eyes, the shock about his magical outburst still sitting deep in her core.

“Exploded?” Ginny by now sat on the edge of the armchair, leaning forward. “Has he...?”

“Gods, no!” Hermione cried out, staring with wide eyes at her friend for even implying such a thing. During their relationship, Draco had always been the most supportive and the most loving person she had ever met. He'd never hurt her. Never. He had only shown her how much she had hurt him with the break-up.

“Sorry, I didn't mean to imply such a thing,” Ginny said, apologising and raising her hands. “Really. He was always sweet around you. More of a git with Harry and Ron.”

“They never agreed on anything,” Hermione replied with a mock sigh but smiling timidly. “Men.”

Ginny chuckled, only to then turn around towards the fireplace as she remembered something. “Can I make a Floo call? Harry is going to hang me for not contacting him immediately.”

Hermione nodded and then watched her friend firing up the Floo. She should have left a message for someone, as she hadn't meant to scare them so soon after her rescue. But then, she had been so overwhelmed with what had happened that she hadn't been able to think clearly; she had just felt the urge to get away.

“Ginny!” Harry's voice sounded through the Floo, still sounding worried and maybe a tad frantic as well.

“Relax, Harry. I found her.”

“Where is she? Is she okay? What happened?”

“I'm fine,” Hermione replied from her spot on the sofa, smiling ever so briefly when she could hear his relieved sigh. “We talked, that's all.”

“Harry, she is okay, maybe a bit upset,” Ginny continued, appeasing her husband. “I'll stay with her, and you let everyone else know that she is safe, okay? And tell Mum that she might need to keep the children over night...”

“All right,” Harry let out. “See you tonight.”

Ginny made a kissing sound. “See you tonight...”

“Do you really have to stay?” Hermione asked as Ginny returned to her previous spot on the armchair. “I hate being watched like a baby. You know I can defend myself.”

Ginny let out a small huff of disbelief but then covered it with a warm smile. “I know. You've beaten their arses more often than they would ever care to admit... But those three men raised hell to find you, so of course they are worried about you right now. Just give them some time, and they will calm down.”

“I just want to be alone today...”

“I know... We don't have to talk if you don't want to, okay?” Ginny got back on her feet. “Tea?”

Hermione accepted Ginny's offer to disappear into the kitchen gladly with a nod. It was great that her friends worried about her, but right now, she just needed some air to breathe and think without having someone sit by her side.

 

Ginny remained in the kitchen after she had brought Hermione a cup of tea, the wireless providing a low background noise while she read a bit in a book pulled from Hermione's shelves. She was here, but she didn't intrude to Hermione's relief.

It was a knock on the front door that eventually interrupted the silence.

After a second knock, Ginny came back to the living room, her wand in her hand. “You don't expect anyone, right?”

Hermione shook her head, getting up as well and reaching for her wand on the small sofa side table.

“I'll open.”

Hermione nodded, although she followed Ginny into the corridor, the Stunning Spell ready on her mind. Her arms and legs trembled, and the picture of the guards opening her cell resurfaced. It took her a deep breath and great willpower to push it back down.

To both women's surprise, it was Blaise who stood in the door when Ginny finally opened it. He smiled briefly when he saw the red-haired witch; although, the smile disappeared as soon as he saw Hermione at the entrance to the living room. “You.”

“Get inside,” Ginny ordered sternly, with a glance back to her friend. “Just please no more drama.”

“I'm not here to cause drama,” Blaise retorted as he entered, his gaze fixed on Hermione; she thought she could see the same hurt in his dark brown eyes as she had seen in Draco's. “I'm here to give _her_ something.”

Hermione returned to her spot on the sofa, Blaise following her, only to take a stand in front of the fireplace.

“I'm not going to stay long, so no need to offer me a tea or anything.” He started searching through his coat pockets; seconds later he produced a small vial that contained a silvery shining liquid. “I honestly have no idea what Draco told you this morning, because Merlin knows he won't tell you all the painful details–”

“Blaise, it's enough that he shouted at me this morning,” Hermione stopped him tiredly, pulling her knitted throw back over her legs. “I _know_ it was painful for him–”

“I don't think you understand the scope of his pain yet. That's why I'm here.” He held up the vial, shooting her a glare filled with barely contained dislike. “These are some of _my_ memories of the time after you left him. Maybe then you understand what you did to him... I won't apologise for my opinion of you during that time, however. Just watch it.”

Nodding solemnly, Hermione accepted the vial Blaise handed her, giving it a swirl before carefully putting it on the sofa side table, next to her book. “I know that I hurt a lot of people, even Ginny, and I wish I knew how to apologise–”

“Don't. It won't be enough.”

“I know.” She sighed defeatedly. “Just one question.”

Blaise crossed his arms but nodded, still glaring at her.

“He had a magical outburst... Is-Is that... I mean, does that happen often?”

“They happen when _you_ are involved. And he had a few of them over the years. I hope you're happy now.”

Hermione wanted to retort to Blaise's cynical words, but then, he was surprisingly civil, given the situation. And even though she deserved him holding a grudge, she was glad that he didn't descend into rudeness and shouting—one such argument was enough. “I promise I have a look.”

“Good. I'll tell Draco that you're safe and not alone.” Indicating a bow with his head, Blaise finally turned to leave the room. He passed Ginny who had been waiting at the door. “Tell your husband thanks for the address. And then give him hell for sending that damn note.”

Ginny nodded, sharing a quick look with Hermione. “Thanks for coming.”

“Goodbye.” With that, Blaise left the place; the sound of the door closing echoed through the corridor.

“What was that?” Ginny asked as she joined Hermione on the sofa, puzzled about the brief intermezzo.

Hermione shrugged; she didn't know either, except for the importance of the memories Blaise had handed her. She reached for the vial, fascinated by its silvery colour, and let it roll between her hands. “Do you have a pensieve that I could borrow?”


	24. Interlude: The Aftermath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We'll get a rare glimpse into someone else's head! These are the memories Blaise has given Hermione in the previous chapter, and I hope it sheds some light on why Draco's friends are so wary about Hermione returning to their friend's life.
> 
> Just a warning: **_IT IS HEAVILY BIASED!_**
> 
> Like Draco, Blaise doesn't know the reasons at that point as to why Hermione left. He is only witnessing the aftermath of her decision, so I think his reaction and his opinion of her are understandable in this situation.
> 
> I will address Draco's behaviour during the break-up as well, he is not without fault.
> 
> In addition, it seems that I need to point out that Draco no longer believes in those prejudices he was fed as a child, though he might still be a tad vain and self-centred. His relationship with Hermione taught him a lot, broadened his horizons so to speak. But then, he was being persecuted by a relentless Purcell, who tried to stick a false claim on him that would have sent him to Azkaban for life—he was highly frustrated about it, so he has a rare moment of lashing out in the heat of the moment. Under normal circumstances, Hermione would have called him out on what he said, severely so, but she was pre-occupied with her own situation and misunderstood him.
> 
> Now, last but not least, my thanks:  
> To _diebirchen_ for proofreading the chapter and making me laugh with a comment about my use of periods. ;-)  
>  And thanks to the lovely bunch of ladies who still have the patience to listen to my ramblings and answer my questions (and I have a lot!). _Debbie, Katie, Linda, Amy, and Evora_ —I love you! :-*
> 
> And a BIG THANK YOU to everyone who leaves a comment! You all make my day! <3
> 
> Enjoy!

**Eight Years ago**

“Blaise! Help!”

He looked up alarmed as the voice of his fiancée came through the small communication device; he had been working through Pansy's notes on an agreement he wanted to present to Mrs Malfoy just as a precaution. It had been a month since the break-up, and it had been a horrible time—Draco went through his own stages of grief, and they were waiting for the inevitable to happen.

“Blaise! Please!”

With a sigh, he pushed the talking button on the device; the agreement had to wait. “I'm coming.”

Their friend had another incident, but based on Astoria's voice, it must be bad, really bad this time. Walking over as fast and discreetly as he could, Blaise knew that things couldn't go on like this—Draco was basically destroying himself with his inability to get over the shock of the sudden break-up, spiralling down into a deep hole.

However, Draco wasn't the only one having to deal with the loss. They all had. In the six years he had spent with _her_ at his side, she not only managed to make him a happy fool, she had also become an integral part of their little group. Now they all felt like they lost a close family member, and they had to deal with the loss while also trying to keep the company running for their devastated, broken friend. Because once loyal, a Slytherin would never let their friend fall.

 

“What happened this time?” Blaise asked as he arrived at Draco's office, where a frantic Astoria was pacing up and down, repeatedly shaking her head and murmuring to herself.

She came running towards him, only to wrap her arms around him for a quick hug. “The _Prophet_ published a piece on the Golden Trio today, and they even focused on _her..._ He-He saw it. I wasn't fast enough to hide it. Blaise, they were speculating about a possible engagement! An engagement!”

“You know he was planning to...” He took her hands in his as she let go of his waist, his lips pressed into a grim smile as she momentarily seemed to lose her calm.

“Blaise, he had an outburst! And it sounded scary!”

“Have you been inside?”

She shook her head and squeezed his hand. “I was too scared this time. It was horrible last time, with everything in pieces. Gods, I wished we could really help him...”

“We all do.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead and finally turned towards the office door, expecting the absolute worst behind it. “You contact Healer Fladbury and tell him it's an emergency this time–”

“You think that...?” Her eyes widened in shock at the possibility they didn't dare to mention.

“I'm afraid so. Just tell Fladbury that we're coming. And then try to reach his mother as well; tell her to meet me there.”

“Okay.” Astoria immediately went about contacting the Healer through the Floo Network while Blaise entered Draco's office with his breath held.

The room looked like a bomb had gone off—everything was scattered on the floor, furniture demolished, windows showing small cracks. Nothing in this room survived the outburst without any damage. And in the centre of the destruction was Draco, leaning against the front of his desk, his legs pulled up, his face empty. He didn't move.

This was the breaking point.

Blaise felt his heart shatter as he saw his friend curled up like this, unable to let go and simply overwhelmed with the loss. After a month of raging—against everyone and the world, but mostly against himself—Draco had finally broken down. No more rage.

Careful not to step on anything he didn't want to be stuck in his shoes, Blaise made his way through the room to kneel down in front of Draco. “Mate? You there?”

No response.

Blaise wished he knew the spells the Healers used in such moments, but more so he wished he knew how to take his pain away. Gods, they had offered to Obliviate him and yet he had declined, the fool. With a resigned sigh, he prodded Draco's shin, not expecting any response.

Moments later, Astoria showed up at the door. “Oh fuck Merlin! Is he okay?”

Blaise turned around and nodded. “Just a few superficial scratches. But he's not responding...”

“She really destroyed him! That's what you get for dating a bloody Gryff–”

“Astoria!”

“You know I'm right! They are all fucking cowards. And they don't care at all about the mess they leave behind! _This_ is the goddamn reason why we don't date them. _This_!”

After a quick glance at Draco who still wasn't responding to his surroundings, Blaise got up to meet his fuming fiancée at the door. As understandable her reaction was, because he pretty much shared the sentiment, it wasn't in the least helpful. “ _Not_ now... What did Fladbury say? Have you reached him?”

“Fladbury?” As Astoria was about to continue her tirade against _her_ , his question stopped her in her tracks, so it took a couple of seconds for her to catch up. “Oh. Fladbury. Yes... He said that you could Floo straight into the mental ward; they are waiting for you. Haven't reached his mother yet.”

It was a small relief for Blaise that Healer Fladbury was ready to receive them immediately, and discreetly so. After a quick peck on the cheek of his fiancée, Blaise went back to Draco to pick him up. “Keep trying to reach his mother. I really need to speak her.”

“Wait...” She came closer to help him as he kneeled down to shoulder the still unresponsive Draco.

“For being so lean, he is damn heavy.” Blaise groaned as he lifted his friend; he even swayed slightly as he tried to find a balance before stepping towards the private Floo exit in the office.

“Careful with his head.” Astoria placed Draco's head back on her husband's shoulder, as it had come close to a corner of the fireplace.

He stepped into the fireplace and smiled when he saw his fiancée grab a handful of Floo powder as he had his hands full; he only had to call out the destination once she had thrown it into the green flames. “I'll let you know as soon as I know more.”

She blew him a kiss for goodbye and then threw the powder into the green flames, waving at him as he called out the Floo exit of the St. Mungo's mental ward.

* * *

 

 

Blaise sat in the visitor area outside the private rooms in the mental ward of St. Mungo's. The Healer had told him to go home, as it might take a while, but he had insisted on waiting here, at least until they had news for him.

Here, he felt the exhaustion of the past month crush him—he was exhausted from keeping a constant eye on his friend to make sure he didn't harm himself or, worse, end his life in a bout of overwhelming despair. Her death would have been easier to deal with, because it would have had some sort of reason. But this? It was just horrible, and they all were at their wit's end.

For a single moment, Blaise wished that Hermione—whose cowardice had caused all this—would come back to right her mistake, to end his misery. There would be shouting and tears, but Draco would be foolish enough, in the end, to take her back. A surge of anger ran through his body as he realised that the wish was pointless—she had disappeared from the country, and probably didn't even care about the aftermath of her decision. Astoria was right earlier, _this_ was what you got for dating a Gryffindor.

“Blaise?” a quiet and worried voice belonging to an elder woman pulled him from his thoughts. “Why did you want to meet me here?”

With a sad smile, he got up to greet her properly. “Mrs Malfoy, I'm sorry about the circumstances, but it's urgent.”

“Draco.” After exchanging three cordial cheek kisses, she sat down next to his seat. As always, she kept a graceful posture, even in these difficult days. Yet, a deep sigh escaped her as she righted the ends of her sleeves before facing him. “You brought him here.”

“He broke down. The whole office was a devastating mess.” He nodded solemnly, leaning back in his seat. “We tried everything, but we can only do so much.”

“You did your best. At least he is still alive.” She patted his knee in reassurance, as she had done hundreds of times when he had been a boy visiting the Manor over the summer while his own mother was away in Italy. “Just _why_? It still baffles me. A month ago, he was happy, and now this.”

“We all wonder,” Blaise replied with a shrug.

He watched Narcissa for a moment; he wondered how she managed to keep her grace, to remain the strong woman who kept the family together as well as she could. Yet, he could see her eyes glistening with an onset of tears that she quickly covered with an equally sad smile. They all suffered with him, but a mother would always feel with their child, suffer with them through every heartbreak. It must be hard enough to watch your family fall apart like this, despite the best efforts—husband in prison for life, son delivered to the mental ward without knowing if he would ever recover.

“Is he going to be okay?”

“They haven't come back yet,” he replied, reaching for her hand to give it a squeeze. “But I guess it will take a while.”

“He's so lost without her,” she whispered; a crack in her voice was the only indication of her pain. “She was his rock, after all.”

Blaise nodded, his eyes fixed on the door to Draco's room. Hermione had indeed been Draco's rock, the one person to keep him grounded, and the one person he had trusted most with his soul and heart. He had opened up to her and thus given her the ability to destroy him—and damn, she had destroyed him!

He bit his tongue to keep a growl from escaping, because if that coward of a Gryffindor walked in right now to end Draco's misery, he would bloody hex her into the next dimension for hurting them all like this. No explanation, no reason, fucking nothing. Wherever she was, he hoped that she went through the same living hell!

There was a heavy silence between them for a moment, both anxiously waiting for the Healer to bring news about their friend and son.

“You know, we talked about him wanting to take the next step,” Blaise finally said, mostly because the silence had become too hard to bear. “He said that me getting married to Astoria had made him think about it.”

She looked at him, her sad smile widening briefly before she nodded. “I know. He asked me whether I thought using the same engagement ring as Lucius had used would be a good idea... But he eventually found another one; I think my sis-his aunt gave him hers. It's a beautiful piece, simple but beautiful. She would have loved it!”

“Yeah,” he replied with a sigh. He had seen the ring, a single green stone surrounded by the smallest of engraved snakes. And he remembered Draco's nervousness about it all, repeatedly questioning the idea, because he thought he didn't deserve her. Turned out, she didn't deserve him...

“However, there's actually a reason why I asked for you to meet me here,” Blaise said, finally touching the reason why he had asked her to come here; it was also a welcome distraction from his straying thoughts.

She faced him, no surprise in her expression. “The company. Astoria told me a few things about how you keep it going when she reached me. Blaise, I can't tell you enough how grateful I am for everything you do.”

Blaise smiled in appreciation of her words as he straightened up again. “I've talked with Pansy about it for the whole legal aspect because it's not as easy as it seems. She has set up an agreement that I was reading through when... when _this_ happened. It complicates things because Draco always had the last say in everything, and his signature is still the only binding one.”

“I see.”

“Another aspect is that, with Draco committed here, the legal responsibilities for the company are technically transferred to you... Pansy can explain it much better than me.”

She nodded in understanding, pursing her lips ever so lightly; he knew her well enough to know that she was considering the options. “Draco can be glad to have you all as his friends.”

“He would do the same for us, I'm sure.”

“He would.” She briefly rubbed her face after a deep breath. “Let Pansy know that I'll have a talk with her about those legal aspects. But don't worry too much about the company, Blaise. You all do a great job, and I will gladly sign any agreement so that you can lead it in my name. Whatever is necessary to take things off my son's shoulders.”

“Thanks.” Relieved that she accepted everything so easily, he leaned back. “I just doubt he'll ever get over it.”

“That's the bane of the Malfoy men—they don't love easily, but once they do, they do so deeply and with all their heart. But we shouldn't lose hope that he learns to deal with it over time...”

“Yeah.” Blaise wasn't so sure about it; all he knew was that it wasn't going to be easy either way, but they would never abandon their friend.

“Mr Zabini... and Mrs Malfoy?” Healer Fladbury finally came out of Draco's room, showing a sombre smile. “I'm afraid we have a few things to discuss regarding Mr Malfoy. If you would be so kind as to–”

“Can I see him?” With one swift move, Narcissa got up, even made a step towards the door. “I want to know if he's okay.”

“Mrs Malfoy, my team is still treating him. But his health, his mental health, is what I wanted to discuss with you. So, if you would please follow me into my office?”

Narcissa shared a quick anxious look with Blaise, who just nodded. There was no point in arguing with the Healers, so they followed Fladbury into his office.

* * *

 

“Potter!” Blaise called out as he saw him and his red-haired wife arrive at the press conference at the company they had hurriedly called for. “You really took your time. I said _early_.”

Harry nodded to Ginny to already go inside as the press conference was about to begin. “We had to bring James to Molly first. Just wait until you have children yourself.”

Blaise only threw Harry an irritated glare before turning towards the side entrance for the press room of the company. It was all he could do to keep his calm because the break-up caused by Potter's best friend had put everything on hold for now—his own wedding where Draco was supposed to be his best man, and any future children as well. “I really wish we didn't have to do this.”

“Same here.”

Once inside, still hiding behind a curtain from the hungry press crowd, Blaise turned around. “You don't get to say that, Potter, because you have absolutely no clue what _she_ left us to deal with–”

“Really? I don't?” Harry retorted through gritted teeth. “I know that Malfoy is a mental wreck, and that you committed him to–”

“Guys!” Astoria came in, shooting them both an impatient glare. “They are waiting for you.”

Blaise wanted to say something, but his fiancée wasn't going to tolerate any more of their useless argument. With a last glare at Harry, he finally made towards the small stage area with its speaking desk and the two small tables to each side. “This is _your_ fault.”

The loud relentless noise in the audience area immediately turned into a curious murmur and confused looks.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, thank you for coming today on such a short notice,” Blaise began, struggling for once to keep his voice professional.

“Mr Zabini,” a younger wizarding reporter in the front row interrupted, “is this about Mr Malfoy's whereabouts? After all, he hasn't been seen for more a month now...”

Blaise gripped the edges of the speaker's desk hard as he saw the accreditation of the reporter—the _Daily Prophet_ , the one paper who had had the nerve to publish this awful piece full of useless speculation. He would have loved to throttle him, even if it was just to get some of his accumulated frustration out of his system.

“We called for this press conference after your paper, the Daily Prophet, has dared to publish an abysmal piece that you dare to call article about Mr Malfoy, speculating wildly about his relationship with Ms Granger,” Blaise continued after a deep breath, fixating on the young wizard in the front row, who was now shrinking back ever so slightly. “Mr Potter and I would prefer to keep this as short as possible, as we both have important things to go back to.”

“What do you know?” another reporter asked, a few rows back and his Quick Note Quill ready to write down any response. “No one has seen either of them for about two months now, and flimsy excuses were given for their absence from important social events, such as–”

“No questions yet.” Blaise shared a look with Harry who had his arms crossed and the lips pressed into a thin line; he wasn't a fan of this kind of situations either. He counted down from ten as he let his gaze wander over the crowd in front of him. Damn reporters and their guts for being so bloody intrusive into all their private lives. Those bloodhounds would definitely love what he was about to tell them, words that would have quite an impact on the wizarding world.

“Ms Granger has ended the relationship with Mr Malfoy. Given the nature of the break-up, Mr Malfoy has decided to take a time-out. Until he returns, I'm the acting president of the company.”

After a moment of shocked silence, the reporters started to bombard them with questions regarding the reasons for the break-up, or whether there had been an affair involved, or how long the time-out would be.

The longer they bombarded him with those questions, the more disgusted with their blood-thirsty questioning Blaise was. His patience was wearing extraordinarily thin, and he wished he could just hex them all to leave them in peace.

“What about Ms Granger? Where is she?”

“Potter, that's for you.” Blaise took a step to the side to let him come forward. “There will be no more comments about the situation from our side. In addition, we request that you don't harass us, nor will you try and find Mr Malfoy. This is a highly private matter, and we will take every necessary step to protect ourselves.”

_As if those bloodhounds had listened._


	25. Tea And Therapy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, thanks to all those people who help me keep this story on track:  
> a) to _MusicLover19_ for proofreading it! Your comments made me laugh, and you're a great person to discuss the story with! :-*
> 
> b) to _JhanaMay_ for helping me with the therapy scene, especially tackling the issue of confidentality and consent of the participating parties. Your insight helped me turn it into a great scene! :-)
> 
> c) to my usual bunch of lovely ladies who aren't tired yet of my ramblings and doubts, and the poking when I feel the need to discuss an idea or feel insecure about something. _Debbie, Linda, Katie, Amy, and Evora_ , I love you all!
> 
> Second of all, thanks to all those people who keep commenting on my story every time I update! You make it worth it, and you lighten up my day!
> 
> Now, enjoy!

“Hermione! I didn't expect you to come over...”

Hermione waved at Ginny who was sitting at the kitchen table, where she was working on her latest column. “I hope I'm not disturbing you. I mean I know you have a deadline to meet.”

“I only have a couple of lines left. Just a commentary of the Wasps against Harpies game, especially that scandalous goal given to the Wasps.” Ginny got up from her seat on the bench to greet her friend with open arms. “I can use the break.”

“And I could use someone to talk with,” Hermione replied with a tired smile before she sat down at the table, placing her head in her hand.

“Have you seen the memories then?” With an empathetic smile, Ginny went over to the counter to fill the kettle and place it on the stove before igniting the fire with her wand.

Hermione nodded. “The children are out?”

“Lily is having a slight fever and is currently asleep upstairs; James went over to George's to play with his cousins.” Ginny came back to the table and then leaned down to Hermione. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, yes. I'm fine.” Hermione sighed when she saw Ginny's raised eyebrow. “Honestly. As good as I can be, at least. But I can't get stop thinking about those memories ever since I saw them yesterday.”

The kettle whistled, and Ginny went over to prepare the tea. “Was it that bad?”

“Worse,” Hermione said, her voice surprisingly quiet. She gladly accepted the mug from Ginny to have something to keep her hands from fidgeting. “It was hard to see him break down like that, just giving up on everything.”

Ginny sat down to her left, leaning forward. “Yeah, he was in the mental ward for a while.”

Hermione studied her friend for a moment, until the pang in heart loosened a bit. “You never said a word...”

“I know. But Harry and I agreed that it wasn't ours to tell. The press was relentless enough about it. I mean we asked them to respect our requests for privacy, but they still wanted more answers...”

Hermione curled her lips into a sad smile. The press had always been relentless while she was with Draco, hunting them for pictures and whatnot. At least they left her in peace right now, mostly because she kept out of the streets anyway, but she hoped that they also understood that she was still recovering.

“I really was an idiot back then, was I?”

After a deep breath, Ginny nodded. “Yeah, you were. You should just have told us. I mean, I try to teach my children that they could come to me and Harry with everything, that we won't judge them for it.”

“I know. And I'm really sorry that I made Harry swear the Oath of Secrecy.”

“I get it now, so don't worry about me.” Ginny reached for Hermione's hand to squeeze it affirmingly. “Draco is more important right now.”

A small wave of relief went through Hermione, but it wasn’t enough to elevate that guilt off her heart completely. “I don't even know what to do next with Draco. He hasn't contacted me ever since the talk... And I'm scared to send him anything.”

“It will be okay, just give him time.”

“Mummy?” a small voice called from the living room. “Mummy?”

Ginny looked at the door, and then got up. “I'm in the kitchen, my darling.”

“Mummy...” Lily showed up at the door, rubbing the sleep from her eyes, her hair a mess. “There's a bird hooting loudly outside. It woke me up.”

“It's okay, Sweetie. Look who's here...”

“Auntie!” Lily stretched her arms towards Hermione, her face lightening up with a bright smile.

As much as Hermione hesitated hugging others, she still welcomed the girl's affections. So, she gladly gave her a quick hug, smiling as the girl gave her peck on her cheek, as careful as she could.

“I'll check for the bird,” Ginny said with a nod towards the garden. “And you, Sweetie, you don't over-exert yourself, okay? You still have a bit of a fever...”

“We can draw something,” Hermione offered, searching for her wand to Summon the necessary items while Ginny left for the gardens. She was glad that Lily accepted the idea easily, immediately grabbing the black crayon. Whatever it was going to be, she would hang it up in her own kitchen.

However, they didn't have to wait long for Ginny to return, who was carrying a small note in her hand. “It's for you, Hermione. From Draco.”

It was indeed a note from Draco to Hermione's surprise, asking her to come to Dr Pendry's office early the next morning. The note was kept short and direct, but she still appreciated his effort to reach out. Her heart started to beat faster, and her mind was already going through all the possibilities what the note could mean, while she was still admiring his elegant handwriting, memorising the words.

“What is it?” Lily asked curiously, looking up from her drawing.

“Just keep drawing, my dear,” Ginny said softly and came up to Hermione to have a look herself. “So, will you go?”

Hermione nodded, vigorously so. As much as it scared her, this might be the only chance she'd get to explain herself properly. So, yes, she would make sure to be there, for both her and Draco's sakes.

* * *

 

“Dr Pendry? She's here now.”

The next morning, Hermione had found her way to the therapist's office and was now waiting nervously to be let into the room by the assistant, fiddling with Draco's note in her hands.

Smiling softly, the assistant turned around and opened the door enough to let Hermione pass. “Just go in...”

With unsure steps, Hermione entered the room, aiming for the visitor's seat in front of the therapist's desk, opening her coat. However, she froze mid-step as she saw Draco sit on the couch reserved for the patients, her heart beating hard in her throat.

“Ms Granger, do sit down. We were waiting for you.” Dr Pendry briefly got up from her seat at her desk. “Mr Malfoy arrived a little earlier...”

Reluctantly, Hermione sat down. After stuffing the note into her coat pocket, she didn't know what to do with her hands, so she just shoved them under her thighs. Another quick glance over to Draco showed that he was feeling uncomfortable—his expression was cold, yet collected. “I am not late, right?”

Dr Pendry shook her head with a soft professional smile. “No. Not at all. Punctual as always... It's been a while since I last saw you here, but I'm very glad you made it out alive. However, we're not here to discuss your capt–your case.”

“Thanks.” Her hands still underneath her thighs, Hermione leaned back.

“I asked Dr Pendry for help with our situation,” Draco said quietly. “I fixed the session to appease my mother, but... but I thought _we_ should use it instead.”

With a timid smile, she looked at him, noticing his tightly crossed arms and the surprisingly tousled hair. She didn't want to say unkempt, but it showed how much it must have thrown him off, only to still have the strength to reach out.

“I think you did the right thing, Draco.” Hermione was surprised how quiet her voice came out, probably from all the emotions bubbling up—in both of them, given his state and reactions. “We really need to talk about things, and we do need help.”

He only stared at her with a guarded expression—his voice might have sounded quiet, but he hid everything else behind a mask; however, she knew he was only hiding that their previous talk and its disastrous end was clearly still on his mind. After another second of eyeing her intently, he nodded in agreement.

Dr Pendry scribbled something in her little notebook before she looked up again, displaying once more a professional empathetic smile. “Now, I've been informed about the basics of your, let's say, rekindled relationship.”

“ _Relationship_ is putting it nicely,” Draco uttered with a huff then turned back to Hermione. “It was anything but in the last eight years. Just _you_ constantly running away.”

She sighed, but she could see that he wanted to say more, but instead, he turned his gaze away after a deep breath. “If it helps you, I'm not going to run away this time. I don't have _anything_ to hide anymore...”

“I see. We have a lot to work through, then.” Dr Pendry looked at both of them in turns, playing with the pen in her hand while she was considering her options. After a few more seconds spent in silence, she added a few more lines to her notes. “This might take more than a single session, I'm afraid, if you're willing to seriously work through your issues.”

Even though she trembled at the sheer thought of baring everything, Hermione was willing to go all the way. Unsure, she gazed over to Draco on the sofa who was rubbing his hands on his trousers while apparently checking the contents of the shelves opposite him. “I am.”

Those two simple words brought his attention back to her, and he stared her straight in the eye as if he was studying her motives. He let out a resigned sigh when he finally nodded in agreement.

“Good.” Dr Pendry leaned back into a more comfortable but still attentive position, her pen and notebook in front of her for any notes she might need to take. “Ms Granger, based on what I know and what had just occurred, I suggest you begin. I beg you both to let the other person finish, as painful as it might get.”

“I... I...” Hermione sighed. She didn't know where to begin, or how much she could tell the therapist after all. The last time she had been here was the final session of her regular treatment after the War. “I made a mistake, and now I don't know how to make amends.”

“With mistake you mean...?”

“The break-up.” Despite it being almost unbearable, she kept looking at Draco, whose knuckles were now white from the grip on his legs. She had barely ever seen him so tense and worked up. “I was a fool for not talking to you, Draco. And I'm sorry, from my heart, for every single moment of pain I caused. I truly am.”

He nodded, and she could see him trying to swallow.

Hermione glanced over to the therapist who was taking notes before she returned her attention to him. “You were the best person that I could have hoped to share my life with. Love of my life, or whatever those happy fools call it. I felt safe and cherished, you know? But after the accident, I thought that you deserve better than someone like me, someone who isn't broken or tainted.”

“You're not broken.” His words were only a hoarse whisper, his previous spite replaced by a hint of comfort.

“It was in my head.” Hermione tapped on her temple to emphasise her words. “Still is.”

Dr Pendry coughed discreetly to gain their attention. “It seems that this accident plays an important part in the whole story. Would you be able to elaborate on it, so that I understand it better?”

For a moment, Hermione's eyes widened in fear, and she felt her throat choke while her heart started racing. To her slightest relief, she saw Draco point at himself and then Dr Pendry, and she nodded, vigorously so.

“I only figured out the importance a few weeks ago,” Draco started, sounding surprisingly calm now. “But as far as I understand, that was the day Ms Granger was attacked by a creature, hence being turned into one as well.”

“Like a werewolf?”

Hermione shook her head. “No. Not a werewolf...”

“And you never told him?” Dr Pendry asked, her voice completely professional and without any judgment to Hermione's relief.

“No.”

“Why?”

Hermione breathed in deeply before answering, as her mind was racing with so many thoughts it was making her dizzy. “Fear, maybe?”

Draco snorted.

“I tried to tell you that!” Hermione retorted, feeling insulted by his reaction. “The whole situation scared me, okay? Part of me is now a scary, _hideous_ creature, and I freaked out. Do you have any idea how much I panicked that you might find out by accident and then decide that I wasn't worth it any longer?” She didn't care how angry or hurt she sounded, she had carried it around long enough; however, she couldn't stop her eyes from tearing up. “I was so goddamn scared that you'd look at me and consider me _filthy–_ ”

“Hermione!” Draco cried out in shock; his darkened. stormy eyes lost their hurting glare, even softened into something more comforting. “Never!”

She wiped those stubborn tears from her cheeks. “I _am_ tainted. Broken. And... And I thought, maybe that was more than you would be willing to accept in me. So, maybe, I was scared you wouldn't love me anymore if you knew?”

There was silence in the room, only interrupted by the sound of a pen scribbling on paper.

"It hurts to hear you ever thought that," Draco whispered, unable to speak louder. He had moved closer while she focused momentarily on keeping her emotions under control. As she startled in response to his gentle touch on her knee, he tried to pull away again, but she stopped him before he could do so. "I was one of those _happy fools_ when I was with you... With you, I felt like I could conquer the world because... because you were my safe place, my _home_. I lost all that when you left me, Hermione. I-I broke down–"

"I know." She took a deep breath, holding on to his hand on her knee. The picture from Blaise's memory of him sitting in the midst of the aftermath of his outburst, so utterly lost, still haunted her.

"But... But I think I understand now."

Hermione's heart made a jump at those words, and for a few seconds, she could only stare at him blankly, trying to comprehend. "But I... You _do_?"

He nodded, his gaze fixed on their hands on her knee. “I had enough time to think over the weekend... And going through it again, I realised that I wasn't fair to you. You're not the only to blame because, in some way, it was _my_ fault too.”

He took a deep breath before he tried to swallow. “I'm sorry for what I've said back then. I should have been a better partner to you and notice that something wasn't alright, despite everything else going on. And I'm really sorry that I made you feel like you couldn't share your... your situation with me, that I would value you less for it. Maybe that's why I reacted so harshly last time we talked.”

“You shouted at me,” she said with a quiet voice, trying to keep any accusatory tone out of it. “And-And you had an outburst.”

He finally looked up, nodding reluctantly. “I'm not proud of it. I just wanted to tell you for so long that I couldn't control myself at that moment...”

“It's-It's okay.” She squeezed his hand tightly in response to his words, feeling a small knot forming in her throat, and her vision briefly started to blur. “I really want to do whatever it takes to solve this, because I don't want to miss you in my life ever again—even just as a... _friend_.”

“Promise to be honest?”

She nodded; the knot in her throat refusing to go away despite her trying to swallow hard several times. “We both need to be honest this time.”

There was the smallest of smiles on Draco's lips before he nodded. "I can do that."

Dr Pendry cleared her throat to regain their attention. "I'm afraid the time is almost up."

* * *

 

“Does Mistress need more of her potion?”

Hermione sighed at Tibby's question; she had just taken some of her prescribed Calming Draught after waking up from a nightmare, only the effects usually took a moment to set in. If only she would stop trembling already! At least her legs didn't give out on her way downstairs into the kitchen where the house-elf was now fussing around while she sat at the table.

“Tibby could make a tea for the nerves...”

“Yes, tea sounds nice,” Hermione replied, watching her elf go through the cupboard to find the valerian they had in store for those kinds of moments.

The elf fussing around in the kitchen was a great distraction from the nightmare that still lingered in her memory. It hadn't been the first time she had dreamed about one of her fights, but tonight it was a very vivid one—the fight against the eagle, making her relive the moment she had driven her talons into his chest. She would never forget the gasp, that last breath he let out, nor would she ever forget that last look he gave her, that relief flickering over his face.

She rubbed her eyes, barely containing a tired growl because she couldn't stop those images from circling through her mind whenever she relaxed. And the emotional upheaval during the session with Dr Pendry might have had a further impact on her, lowering her mental control. She had barely felt so vulnerable than in the moment of finally admitting her reasons for her decision.

She and Draco had parted on much better terms after the session with Dr Pendry, both with the intention to work on their relationship, wherever it would lead them. She had even invited him to a cup of tea at her place, partly to keep the good momentum going; however, he had declined with a soft smile, saying that he already had plans with Blaise and Astoria.

“Mistress should drink her tea,” Tibby said as she placed the mug in front of her with an empathetic smile, though her eyes still had a worried look.

“Thanks.”

This was one of the moments Hermione was glad to have the company of a house-elf. To her surprise, she barely remembered their first argument about his family still employing house-elves. But then, Draco had made sure that they were employed according to the new Ministry regulations, and with proper dignity. Over time, she had come to know those helpful creatures more closely, who were willing to serve Draco as their master. He had always been respectful whenever he had to deal with them, and sometimes, it had been downright adorable.

Taking sip after sip of her tea, she had a look around the kitchen. It was her favourite room in the whole house, always warm and with a comfortable sofa in the corner. However, her eyes lingered on the stove for a moment, as a thought ran through her sleep-deprived and still shaken mind.

Cooking.

That's what they could do as a bonding activity, something Dr Pendry had suggested. “Tibby, could you bring me a pen and some paper, please? I need to write a note.”

“Yes.”

Hermione watched the elf leave the kitchen, taking another gulp of her tea. Both her Calming Draught as well as the valerian in the tea finally started to work, and she felt calmer; at least her hands stopped shaking and she could take deeper breaths.

Gods, how could she forget that they used to cook dinner together, whenever time allowed for it? Her smile widened as she remembered all the evenings they had cooked together—bumping into each other more often than not, and occasionally burning things because they had forgotten time while kissing. They had used those evenings to discuss couple things, focused on each other and their goals. Those evenings had usually been the most intimate both in terms of feeling connected as well as lovemaking.

This time, they didn't have to go this far, yet cooking seemed the best idea for them to start over, giving them both a good frame to focus on the good stuff of their past relationship...

“Pen and paper for the Mistress.” Tibby's return pulled Hermione from her memories as she placed the requested items on the kitchen table; of course, she had brought the best pen she could find.

With a tired smile, Hermione accepted the pen Tibby held up for her. She might be too tired to write anything comprehensible, but she felt good enough now to try and word an invitation to Draco for their cooking date—she figured that he might appreciate a formal invite as a sign of her reaching out.

Gods, she was looking forward to the evening! Thinking about spending time with Draco made her feel nervous, but also a tiny bit hopeful. It was just a first step, but it felt like the right one.

After sipping some more of her tea, she finally started writing her invite, even though she would probably change it again before finally sending it.

 

_Dear Draco,_

_As I already told you after the session, I'm indeed grateful for your willingness to work on our... well... relationship, even though I have to agree, the word just doesn't fit right now._

_As Dr Pendry suggested, we should enjoy an activity together, and I thought long and hard about it. Do you remember the fun we had while cooking dinner together?_

_Would tomorrow evening be fine with you? 6 pm? Please let me know if another date is better suited._

_Thank you_ _  
Hermione_

* * *

 

Later that afternoon, Hermione found herself visiting her parents, following an urge to see them—people who weren't connected to anything in the wizarding world. She instantly felt like home when she walked through the familiar front yard of their small house. It wasn't the same place she had grown up in, but coming to her parents' house still made her feel like coming home.

She knocked, looking around for any signs of someone following her. It wasn't really a problem being alone in her place, the house Draco had given her, with all its security measures and Tibby never too far; but out on the streets on her own, without Draco playing her bodyguard, she felt surprisingly uncomfortable, kept looking back over her shoulder.

After a second knock, Hermione finally heard steps behind the door. Seconds later, her mother appeared with an astonished look on her face that turned into a big happy smile as soon as she recognised her daughter.

“Will, she is here!” Her mother opened her arms for a hug, which Hermione accepted reluctantly. “It's so good to see you again, my dear! We were worried when we didn't hear from you in weeks, you know?”

“I'm fine,” Hermione whispered, taking in the discreet flowery scent of her mother, a memory from her childhood and happy times. “Harry and Draco rescued me.”

Her mother let go again after a last stroke over her back. “Draco? I mean, Harry told us that they were able to get you out and that you were doing reasonably fine, adding that you'd come visit us once you feel better. Though, he didn't mention details... But do come in!”

Hermione followed her mother through to the living room that looked out over their garden in the back. “Dad is in his study?”

“Yes, I think so. You know how he is with his new computer... I think he was checking out options for our next vacation. Tea?”

Hermione nodded, only to follow her mother into the kitchen to sit down at the table there. “Where do you plan to go for the vacation?”

“We have a few options, actually. I think Spain was on the list, or Australia. Like, rent a van and just travel through the continent, maybe even visit some old friends. We haven't seen that much during the time we lived there, you know?”

“Australia, hmm?” Hermione had to smile at the travel plans; she had been so glad when she could restore their memories, and even more so when they decided to come back to the UK—and now they were simply living out their retirement by travelling the world and engaging in several social clubs.

“Yes, Australia.” With an amused shake of her head, her mother ignited the stove with the filled kettle on it before she turned around to face her. “You said something about Draco? I'm surprised because you haven't mentioned him in years...”

“Jean, what did you say?” Her father came into the kitchen, only to stop mid-step when he saw Hermione sit at the table. “My little girl is back!”

She got up, bracing herself for the inevitable bear hug from her father. “Hi...”

“We're so glad to have you back, you know?” he said as he eventually broke off again with a relieved smile. “But you look a bit tired...”

“I'm fine. Just a few nightmares, that's all.”

“You sure? I'm sure Rupert could free some time for you and prescribe you something if you need it–”

“Dad, I'm fine. I have enough people fussing about me, and I already take something; I don't think it would mix well...” Hermione sat down in her previous spot, glad for the table to provide a hold.

Will took a seat opposite her while Jean kept leaning against the counter, waiting for the kettle to whistle. “Wizarding medicine?”

“Guess who rescued her?” Jean threw in with a teasing tone before Hermione could answer her father's question.

“I thought Harry and his team did.”

“ _Draco_ was there too.”

Hermione would have preferred to change the subject, because she knew that her parents were going to ask her about everything and she barely felt like answering all the details, not wanting to end up a mess again.

She just nodded in response to her father's inquiring look.

“Now I do need _some details_ , because you two haven't spoken in years, not since... you know.”

Hermione sighed and leaned her head on her hand, switching from her father to her mother and back. “It's a bit complicated, and I'm not really in the mood to talk about it, okay? He helped Harry, and now we're _kind of talking_ again.”

“I see.” The kettle whistled, and Jean turned around to prepare the tea. “I guess you two have a lot to talk about.”

“Oh yes... Right now, I'm just glad that we talk at all, though we have some help from Dr Pendry. The therapist I had after the War, you remember?”

“Pendry? Oh yes, she's a good one, and she really helped you.” Jean placed the cups on the table, in front of everyone. “Didn't know she also counsels... well... couples.”

Hermione shrugged and took her cup between her hands, relishing in the warmth it emitted and the scent of black tea with just a drop of milk. They were anything but a couple, and hoping to get back to that stage would be presumptuous on her part. “She told us to do something together, like some bonding activity.”

“You sound like you are still trying to find something.” Jean sat down to her right. “I think we still have a list of activities that your father found online somewhere.”

“I can print it for you if you want.”

Hermione had to chuckle at her parents' eagerness to help and drank some of her tea before answering. “I thought we could cook dinner together. I mean, we used to do that when we were... you know... together.”

“Oh yes, that's a good idea indeed! I remember the gratin you made once–”

“Don't forget the pie for dessert that evening!” Jean exclaimed with a laugh. “He was basically blushing in deep red when I complimented it, remember?”

Hermione found it relaxing to dig into those buried memories of good times together, so she joined her mother's ongoing chuckle. “Yes, he was the better baker between the two of us. Always claimed that it was because he was better at Potions too. _Chemistry_ I mean.”

“It certainly was delicious. And I hope you have a good evening, regardless of what you're planning to do this time,” Will said with an encouraging wink.

Hermione nodded, feeling her cheeks blush slightly. “So, anything I missed while I was gone?”

“Well... Have you heard that the librarian in your old library has finally retired?” Jean said, leaning back, studying her daughter with one of those relieved and happy looks. “I'm pretty sure you've read every single book he could find in that library...”

“He has? Isn't he like over seventy now?”

“He is. But they threw a big farewell party for him,” Will added with a grin. “Everyone showed up; it was great.”

“Pity that I missed it.” Relaxing now, Hermione leaned back, happy to just listen to her parents telling her about everything that went on in their neighbourhood.


	26. Catching Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look, another update! ;-) This time, it's a quiet chapter, focussing on Draco and Hermione reconnecting after the initial therapy session with Dr Pendry.
> 
> My thanks:  
> a) to _Musiclover19_ for proofreading the chapter! *hugs* I love reading your comments...  
>  b) to my usual bunch of wonderful ladies and their patience when listening to my ramblings and my doubts. _Debbie, Linda, Katie, and Evora_ , love you all! :-**  
> c) to anyone reading and leaving a comment! I love reading them, and they usually make my day! THANK YOU!
> 
> Now enjoy!

“Flying? Really?”

Draco was just landing in the empty Quidditch stadium; the Wasps hadn't minded letting him do a few rounds on his own after they had finished their training. After years of burying himself in his work, almost forgetting everything else, it had been surprisingly liberating to feel the cold air on his face and fingers.

“Why not?” Draco said as he climbed off the broom, pushing a strand out of his face before he joined Blaise at the edge of the pit. “I felt like it.”

“Sure,” Blaise replied with a sceptically raised eyebrow. “The session with Dr Pendry went well then?”

Draco walked to the player exit to bring the broom back to the equipment manager's office. The therapy session had been one reason why he felt like flying a few rounds. “Hermione was there as well...”

“What?” Blaise pulled him back in surprise. “Why?”

“I thought it was necessary.” Draco pushed Blaise's hand off his shoulder to continue his walk down to the broom office. “And you know what? It helped. It was hard, but it _helped_.”

Blaise had to fasten his steps to be able to keep up with Draco. “Mate, I'm glad you're finally able to put everything behind you.”

Draco chuckled at Blaise's words. “ _Putting everything behind me_ is one way to say it. It's not done with a single session, but we're _working_ _through it._ We'll see what comes out of it.”

Arriving in front of the broom office, Draco turned around, briefly smirking as his friend caught up with him. He knew that Blaise was relieved that he had found closure after all those years—and it _was_ a closure of sorts—but he wouldn't agree with any further plans of reconciliation between him and Hermione.

“You finished with your rounds?” the equipment manager asked politely, coming over to take the broom and put it away.

With a brief smile, Draco nodded, handing the broom to the manager. “Thanks again.”

“So, you just see each other like once a week and talk about what went wrong?” Blaise asked as they walked towards the exit of the stadium. “What about the place you had prepared for her? You just give it to her like that?”

Draco only stopped once they were outside the stadium, brushing through his hair that was tousled from the wind, staring at Blaise with narrowed eyes. “Why would you care what I do with my private property? If I want to keep her safe, then I will.”

“Fine.” Blaise huffed and made a few further steps. “Then don't talk about it.”

“Blaise, stop.” Draco caught up with him, even blocking his way. “Look, she did apologise and I have the answers I wanted. And to be honest, we were _both_ to blame for the break-up.”

“What do you mean? She left _you_ , after all.”

“Yes, she did,” Draco retorted, barely able to keep a frustrated growl from escaping. “She made a mistake, but so did I. That's all I'm going to say today.”

“Alright.” Blaise sighed in defeat. “Just... Just be careful, okay?”

Draco nodded. “Anything else you wanted to discuss? I didn't have the impression it was just about the session...”

“Fancy a stop at the new coffee place around the corner? I need your advice in regards to some stuff happening in the company...”

“What _stuff_?” Draco didn't like the evasive tone in Blaise's voice, as it set off an alarm in his head.

“Nothing big yet. Just an increasing amount of accidents and reports of malfunctioning equipment in the factory halls.”

“Injuries?”

Blaise shook his head to Draco's relief. “Thank the gods, no. But it looks like we might have to close hall one for safety concerns. Draco, we can't have that happen with Christmas sales coming up!”

“No coffee. Let's go straight back to the company...” And with fast steps, Draco walked straight to the next Apparition spot he knew in the vicinity of the Wasps stadium.

* * *

 

“You made it.”

Slightly nervous, Draco couldn't help but show a soft smile when Hermione opened the door the next evening. He didn't quite know what to expect of the evening, but he was hoping for a more relaxed one now that the tension between them had mostly gone.

“Come in... It's cold enough outside.” She stepped aside to let him enter.

“Thanks. I even brought a bottle of wine that I thought would go nicely with your plans to cook risotto.” He offered her the bottle he had been carrying in his hand until now; he smirked in amusement as her eyes widened in surprise at the label.

“You shouldn't have!” Her cheeks blushed as she closed the door behind him, her eyes still fixed on the label. “Merlin, this is an expensive one, as far as I can tell.”

As he took his coat off, Draco noticed Tibby on the stairs; she was looking at him with an exasperated expression. “I thought that as a guest tonight, I should bring something.”

“You're not just a guest, okay?” she replied, finally looking up again, her cheeks still reddened, before she turned around to walk to the kitchen at the other end of the corridor. “I'll go see if I can find the opener...”

“Mistress won't let Tibby help in the kitchen tonight,” the house-elf complained in a quiet voice, glancing over to the kitchen as she accepted his coat to hang it up in the wardrobe. “Tibby is here to cook and take care of Mistress...”

“Let her do it, Tibby. It helps her, and maybe it helps us all.” With a chuckle at the elf's continued exasperation, Draco followed Hermione into the kitchen. After what happened in that room the last time he was here, he hesitated to enter; so instead, he watched her from the door.

She was wearing her old Gryffindor shirt over a pair of wide-cut black slacks which gave her a relaxed look. It was almost like watching the lioness he remembered, except that she looked more tired these days. He felt a little nostalgic pang in his chest when he realised that they both no longer were the people they used to be. They both had changed too much.

“Ha!” Hermione exclaimed as she finally managed to pull the cork out of the bottle with one concentrated pull, smiling proudly in his direction. “And yes, I could just have done it with my wand, but it's so much more satisfying this way.”

“You always did it this way,” he replied, stepping into the kitchen as she poured a small amount of wine into one of the glasses on the counter to have a tasting.

“Hmm... rich and smooth.”

Moments later, they both had a full glass of wine in their hands, raising it to a toast.

Playing with the first sip of wine in his mouth, Draco had a look around the kitchen. The atmosphere was so different tonight to the last time he was here. No longer so tense, but more relaxed now that everything had been let out between them. Nothing was looming over them any longer, giving them a chance to breathe. And he was glad to see that Tibby had managed to bring the kitchen back to order after his magical outburst had shattered everything.

“You look better,” she said, breaking the silence, swaying her glass. “I mean, better than during the therapy.”

He nodded, leaning against the counter and his arms crossed in relaxed manner. “I barely slept after... you know. The whole thing just kept circling through my mind again and again. But I'm really glad that you came.”

“And I'm glad you agreed to us cooking dinner. It means a lot to me, because you could just have said _no_ after everything.”

He nodded before he took another sip of his wine. Of course, he had been surprised when he had discovered the note on his kitchen table, yet he had appreciated her effort of sending a written invitation. During their relationship, they had frequently cooked together as it gave them a frame for couple time—a time of talking about their future, their goals, their respective families and their expectations, and sometimes their past as well. Fond memories, for the first time in years.

Fond memories of intimacy and peace.

“You look exhausted, though,” he said as he lowered the glass. “Nightmares still?”

With a sigh, she placed her glass back on the counter before rubbing her face briefly.

“Yes, to be honest,” she said, exhaustion in her voice. “It's like, every time I close my eyes, I can see those faces again, that moment just before I... I...” She flexed her fingers unconsciously. “I mean, it's okay during the day, I can distract myself enough with reading, some telly, or visiting the Burrow. But I now I'm scared to fall asleep, to relax.”

At first, Draco was surprised at her open and honest reply, but it was immediately replaced with a growing worry. That was why he put his glass down on the counter, next to hers, before he offered his hand for comfort.

“Don't you talk with anyone about it?”

Ignoring his hand, she hugged herself and shook her head. “The boys are still busy with the case, and I don't want to scare the others off with the details.”

He got up from his leaning position and came closer, reaching for one of her hands. “I've seen enough to know that it must have been horrible...”

She didn't protest as he pulled her into an embrace; instead, she wrapped her arms around his waist with a deep breath. “It was hell, Draco. I had to _kill_ people.”

He put his arms around her shoulders, sheltering her from the outside for as long as she needed it. “I know. But it wasn't your fault, okay? You did what you had to in order to survive.”

“They were innocent!”

“You are too. You had no choice.” It was a weird déjà-vu for Draco, because she had once used the same words to calm him on one of his bad days. “You are stronger than you think.”

“I don't feel strong...”

“You're not alone.”

A small sigh escaped her before she looked up, a weak smile on her lips. “Thanks.”

“I mean it. You can always send Tibby to find me, or you can come over to my place if it makes you feel better...”

“I don't want to be a b–”

“You're not.”

“Draco,” she said, reluctantly breaking off the embrace to have a better look at him. “I can't ask for _that_. We barely managed to–”

“Hermione, I still care about you.” He reached for her hands that were lingering on his sides. “Whatever you need, you _can_ ask for it. Don't worry about the situation between us when you don't feel well, okay? You've been through hell, so you have all the right to ask for help if you need it. Just let me know...”

She stared at their twined hands for a seemingly long time, until a smile finally curled up her lips. “You know, you haven't told me your address yet...”

“Just remind me to write it down before I leave tonight.” He was relieved that she was calming down again, after all, he hadn't meant to stir things up this much. “Now, what about you enjoy another glass of wine while I cut up everything?”

She raised her eyebrow, and then nodded. “You were always better with the onions.”

“I told you, the trick is a modified Bubble Charm,” he replied with a chuckle and let go of her hands. He then Summoned everything he needed to cut up the vegetables for the risotto while she reached for the bottle to fill her glass up again.

“I'm sorry for ruining the mood of the evening... After all, Dr Pendry said we should focus on the good things we had–”

He cast the Bubble Charm over the board with the onions, and then he looked at her, the knife ready to start cutting. “She _suggested_ it... But then, _I_ asked, didn't I?”

She nodded before she drank some of her wine, watching him over the rim of her glass. “Is it the same for you? I mean, with thinking back? Every time I remember something from our time together, I can't help but feel some sort of pang in my chest.”

For Draco, it was the same—whenever he thought about those six years they had spent together, it was always tinted with the feeling of loss. Even though the situation between them had changed, the memories were no longer happy ones, only vague reminder what it had felt like to be happy.

“It is,” he said, concentrating on the onion to avoid cutting into his fingers. “I usually distracted myself with the work at the company. There was always something to do...”

“Yeah, I get that. I did the same as Auror. I was usually the last to leave and then amongst the first to show up again the next morning. I was glad that Harry gave me my own office.”

“I'm glad he kept an eye on you.” Careful not to destroy the Bubble Charm, Draco pushed the cut-up onion to the side to cut up the celery she handed him. “Can I ask you something?”

She nodded hesitantly, and he thought she was even holding her breath to some extent.

“Why did you tell him about... you know... your creature?”

He could hear her let out the breath in a gasp at his question, only to watch her gulp down the rest of the wine in her glass from the corner of his eye. However, he wasn't asking out of spite, even though he knew that the question was difficult to answer.

“You don't have to answer; I'm just curious, okay?”

She shook her head as she put the empty glass down. “I don't know, really. I just needed someone to talk to, and I trusted him the most in that situation. Were you mad when you found out?”

Draco chuckled as he nodded. “Quite a bit, actually.”

However, the talk and the following therapy session had helped him find a form of peace, even closure. All was said that _needed_ to be said between them, and he no longer felt the urge to cling to his anger. He wanted to let go of it and move on, starting tonight. He knew that anger didn't dissolve over night, but this evening was a first step towards it, and he was willing to take it. Even more so as Hermione tried her best to make it up to him by being open and honest.

“Why can I imagine you two shouting at each other?”

“Because we did?” As he was finished cutting up, he leaned sideways against the counter to have a look at her. It was obvious that she had expected a worse reaction from him, so her smile grew bigger as the tension left her.

“Can I ask you how you found out about it?”

Draco reached for his wine glass to have a sip and also just to gain a few seconds before answering. He didn't know whether he would have found out without the information from the succubus, but it wasn't something he wanted to talk about. “I was lucky.”

She nodded in silent acceptance, but it was clear that she wanted to know more. “Were you in the audience?”

He raised his eyebrow before he nodded slowly. “I saw a couple of fights, yes. But not yours, if you meant that.”

A sad smile curled her lips as she sighed. Biting her lower lip then, she reached for the wine bottle to refill her glass before she offered it silently to Draco who was watching her.

“What's the next step in the recipe?” he asked, mostly to change the subject. He did admire her composure in that moment after everything she had been put through, but he was still surprised that she hadn't yet sought professional help to deal with her experiences, like she had after the War to get over her nightmares and panic attacks back then.

“The mushrooms. We need to cut them up as well, and then boil them for a few minutes...” She gladly accepted the change, and went to the table to check the recipe. “Yes. It says ten minutes.”

“Then let's get started. I'm hungry.”

 

By the time Tibby was allowed back into the kitchen, they had finished the dinner and were sitting comfortably close together at the table—Hermione sat sideways with one leg under her, facing Draco, while he leaned back, constantly resisting the urge to just place his arm behind her on the chair; meanwhile, the house-elf prepared a small dessert.

“So, we're in Spain to discuss a deal that would allow us to sell our products in the country,” Draco started, smiling at the eager expression in Hermione's face. Her head was slightly tilted to the side, and she kept playing with her lower lip. “The Spanish Ministry is a pain to deal with. It was just Blaise and me... well, and a translator who even showed us around a bit.”

“A woman?”

He chuckled, and then nodded. “I mean, we could have just used a translation spell, but...”

“Oh, you liked how she looked. I get it.” She laughed, shaking her head.

“Well, she _was_ nice to look at, and she knew the best places around the country. But she was no _you_.”

With an apologetic smile, she reached for his hand and twined her fingers with his. “What happened then? Did you end up in a compromising situation?”

Understanding her gesture, he squeezed her hand. “Well, no. Not a compromising situation per se. But we were close to end up in jail because of a misunderstanding.”

“Misunderstanding?”

“Yes. Blaise is going to kill me if he ever finds out I told you about this... So, we were in this joint that only the locals frequent—at least that's what the translator said. We didn't know, however, that the place was going to be raided that evening.”

“No way!” Laughing once more, she leaned forward, until her head came to lie on his shoulder. “Reminds me of the week we spent in Italy.... Remember? You only went to buy some stuff for a late breakfast, and I had to get you out of a situation.”

“Oh Merlin, yes! Italy!” Now Draco laughed as well as he remembered that vacation at the coast in Northern Italy. That was the one time he really should have used a translation spell—that and the fact that someone had recognised the already faint Dark Mark on his arm had caused him quite some trouble. “Haven't been there in ages.”

“I was in Rome once, some collaboration between the Auror Departments. Had the best spaghetti ever. Gods, it was so cliché, but one of our Italian co-workers invited us to his place, and his mother made dinner... The boys had the worst hangover the next day.”

He chuckled at her devious smirk that followed her story. The whole evening had been a remarkably comfortable experience so far, and he felt home for the first time in years because he was back in the place where he belonged, at her side.

“Dessert is ready for Mistress and Master Draco to eat.” With a proud smile, Tibby brought the plates to the table. “Panna cotta, as Mistress has wished for.”

“She begged to be allowed to at least prepare _one thing_ for tonight,” Hermione explained with a warm smile as he raised a questioning eyebrow. Instead of letting go of his hand, she reached for her spoon with her other hand. “Thanks for letting her stay with me.”

He followed the house-elf's moves on the counter for a moment, noticing how the creature kept glancing at them with a happy smile. “I think she would like us to be together again.”

Hermione's cheeks flushed, and she put another spoonful of her dessert in her mouth to gain a few seconds.

He pulled her hand a bit closer to regain her attention, knowing it was a question they had to discuss at some point. There were unspoken hopes between them, and the fear of having them crushed again. “One step after another.”

“Yeah,” she said with a relieved nod, only to enjoy the next spoon of her dessert with an unsure smile. “You know, I did follow the news about your company... It's impressive what you built up.”

Loading his spoon with dessert, he studied her closely for a couple of seconds, having noticed her change of subject into a safer territory. “You think?”

“Oh come on, Draco. Your products are everywhere, not a single wizard or witch who doesn't have one of them somewhere in their pockets or at home. You're basically bringing wizarding society into the twenty-first century, so to speak.”

To cover for his slight blushed cheeks at her words, he opted for another spoonful of his dessert. Building his company up had kept him alive over the years, so much that it had become his whole identity by now. So much that he didn't know what to do with himself any longer having so much free time, except for flying a few rounds in the Wasps stadium.

“Don't you feel proud about it?”

“Maybe,” he replied with a shrug and a raised eyebrow. After all, he just did what he had to and what others somewhat expected of him, even though the achievements were indeed remarkable.

She raised her eyebrow back at him, her warm and relaxed expression turning more concerned. “Everything alright? You sound like something's on your mind, and I don't mean us this time.”

“Everything's fine. Just Christmas coming up, that's all.” He had discussed the situation at the company with his friends for the majority of the day after arriving from the stadium. The situation was even worse than Blaise had initially let shine through, and there was no other choice that to close factory hall one before any grave accidents could happen. They could still stem the Christmas sales with just factory hall two, or at least he hoped so.

However, there was a nagging in the back of his mind that had him question the coincidence of it all.

“I'm sure you'll do great,” she said, pulling him out of his thoughts, only to shift her position to move closer, their shoulders touching now.

“Thanks.”

She played with the spoon in her hand, even slowly licked it clean, although she still had some of her dessert left. “What do you think? We could do such an evening like once a week, trying to remember the good stuff, catching up on other things...”

With her leaning against his shoulder, the urge to just wrap his arm around only grew, like he used to whenever they sat this close together. “I think, next time, you'll need to let Tibby cook.”

“I like that, _next time_.”

He nodded with a soft smile.

 _Next time_ sounded like a promise—of more moments like this evening, filled with her presence; more moments of his soul finally at peace, of him feeling home.

“Can't wait for it,” he whispered, barely audible in the comfortable silence that had settled between them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I based their cooking instruction on this recipe for anyone interested:  
> [Link to Jamie Oliver's Grilled Mushroom Risotto](https://www.jamieoliver.com/recipes/rice-recipes/grilled-mushroom-risotto/)


	27. Of Lions and Badgers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Christmas season is here!
> 
> Don't be too mad with Hermione for wanting to get out of her place a bit, trying to find some distraction in the Christmas traditions she has always enjoyed over the years and forget about her trauma for a moment... Plus, children can be so adorably persuasive sometimes. ;-)
> 
> My thanks:  
> a) to _MusicLover19_ for proofreading and providing further comments! :-*  
>  b) to my fave bunch of ladies and their never-ending patience to listen to my doubts and ramblings whenever I feel stuck on my chapters! I love you all, _Debbie, Linda, Katie, and Evora_!  
>  c) ...and to everyone reading my story! Knowing that I can touch people with my story makes my day, so THANK YOU FOR READING IT!
> 
> Now, enjoy! :-)

Almost two weeks after Hermione's rescue, December arrived and with it, the official start of the Christmas season. It was a magical season in every sense of the word, with many loved traditions.

Hermione loved those traditions, though this year, the things were a bit different. Masses of people made her uneasy to the brink of a panic attack, and she preferred to stay inside most of the time. But she still couldn't say _no_ when she was asked to come along to the opening of the wizarding Christmas market with Ginny and the children. Not when Lily had asked her, her goddaughter.

“And you're really up to it?” Ginny asked when they arrived at the Christmas market; the children were tugging at her as the first stands were in sight.

Hermione nodded, taking a deep breath before making sure that her shawl sat tight. She had taken an extra dose of her Calming Draught before leaving, but she wasn't sure whether it would be enough to keep her uneasiness at a manageable level. “I'll be fine...”

Ginny threw her a sceptical look but then accepted her answer with a nod before she leaned down to her son. “James, you remember what I told you before we left home?”

The boy nodded vigorously and with beaming face. “Stay together. Don't run off. And if Auntie doesn't feel well, bring her into a quiet corner.”

Hermione had to smile at the earnestness James showed as he listed the rules, wanting to show how grown-up he already was. He was a cheeky little version of his father, only with an auburn mess to call hair.

“Good.” Smiling as well, Ginny offered both her hands to her children and nodded towards the entrance to the market. “Let's go and get ourselves high on sugar.”

 

“Mum, Mum, Mum! Can I go on the big ride?” James asked after they had passed the first few stands of the Christmas market, his hand firmly around Hermione's in an almost protective manner.

Ginny let out a sigh, trying to get through a throng of people standing in front of a particular stand with sweets. “I told you that we will go on the big ride as soon as the others join us, okay? Wouldn't be fair on your cousins otherwise, right?”

“But we could go see the ponies now,” Lily said with a smile, pointing randomly into a direction. “They are quiet enough for Auntie.”

“Let's just walk through the stands and see what they sell... I'm pretty sure your uncles would love to see you visit their stand as well.”

“Yes! Uncle George always has some sweets for us!” James exclaimed excitedly, missing Hermione's flinch in reaction.

“Yes! And Uncle Fred lets us play with some toys when we go to the shop!” Lily added, similarly excited. “But I want to see the ponies first!”

“Uncles first!”

Hermione swallowed hard and took a deep breath, glad that it helped to chase away the most urgent uneasiness, but she covered it with a warm smile. “Looks like we have a problem...”

“I'll mark the day in the calendar when those two will agree on something,” Ginny replied with a chuckle. “I'd rather stick together to keep an eye on you...”

“But I can keep an eye on Auntie too, I know what to do!” James piped in, sounding almost insulted.

Ginny moved to a spot between stands to get away from the people for a moment. “Look, I know you're a big boy, James. But Auntie is different than your sister...”

Instead of arguing with his mother, James just switched between her and Hermione with the biggest puppy eyes he could muster. “Please! I promise I won't let go of her hand, and I know that I'm supposed to pull her into a quiet corner if she's feeling worse... worse than now, anyway.”

Ginny studied Hermione for a second before sighing in defeat. “You have to ask Auntie if she feels up to it, okay? You've seen how many people are here.”

“Auntie? Please? I promise I'll do what you say!”

“You really promise to behave?” Hermione asked, amused by his eager nod because she knew what a cheeky devil he could be. With a shrug, she turned her attention to Ginny. “I think I can manage. The Draught should hold...”

“Fine,” Ginny conceded and started fishing in her small beaded bag. Seconds later, she pulled out a small round device that she handed her son. “You remember how this works? I have another one in my coat, okay?”

“I push the button once if something happens with Auntie, just like when I watch Lily.”

“Good.” Ginny smiled at the earnest expression on James' face. “Meeting point is the big ride in an hour. I think, by then, the others should be there as well...”

 

Hermione had remembered to cast a charm on herself to keep people from bumping into her, like an invisible cushion around her and James. It helped her keep her levels of uneasiness under control while strolling through the stands with the boy, even though she still thought that she was being watched every second step.

“Auntie, look!” James pointed towards a stand with wooden figurines that seemed to move on their own. Eager to see more, he pulled her towards the stand. “Cool...”

Once in front of the stand, Hermione took a look over her shoulder because she thought she had seen a face that brought up a flash memory of the pit guards, a face that was watching her from a distance. A first wave of panic spread through her body, making her tremble. It took her several deep breaths and James squeezing her hand to make her feel more grounded again.

“Can you find all four animals representing the Hogwarts houses?” she said, mostly to distract herself.

He threw her a knowing glance, his hand once more tightening around hers, but then he nodded with a big smile. “Teddy told me a lot about Hogwarts already. And we always say goodbye on the platform when he leaves for school again. Dad and Mum always have tears in their eyes, but his grandma cries the most...”

“Look, there's the badger for Teddy.”

“Why is it a badger?” James asked curiously, watching the small figurine move around in its spot.

“Teddy is a bit like a badger I think,” Hermione replied. “He's charming and loving, but don't ever attack those he loves. Badgers are very dangerous creatures, and sometimes a lion might run away from one...”

“Never!”

She chuckled at his mocked gasp in shock, and then pointed out at another figure. “Look, there's the lion.”

“Dad says I'll be sorted into Gryffindor for sure, says I'm even worse than he was...”

She nodded with a smile. “Oh, your dad has a few stories to tell from his time at Hogwarts, I saved him a lot of times. But your uncles were _worse_...”

“He never tells anything, always says that I'm not old enough for them yet.”

“He'll tell them one day, I'm sure...”

James turned to look at her. “You're feeling better again?”

“Yes, I'm fine. After all, I have a great bodyguard with me.”

James' concerned expression softened into a proud smile, even though he still remained somewhat sceptical. “Look, there's a snake too. But why is it hissing at the lion?”

“I think you'll understand that a bit better once you're at Hogwarts. The snake is the symbol of the Slytherin House–”

“Slytherin? Aren't they _bad_?”

“Who told you that?”

“Just some other boys at the primary school...”

Hermione leaned down to his level. “Some of the bravest people were in Slytherin, and some of the most famous wizards as well. You remember Draco, right?”

James nodding reluctantly, still playing with the lion. “He played with me and Lily when you came over after... after...”

“He was in Slytherin. And he did everything to find me.”

“He's actually nice, you know?”

“He is.” Hermione smiled softly at the boy's words. “So tell your friends that they are wrong. Or I'll have a word with them.”

“You'd scare them.” He chuckled and then took up the snake figurine. “We could get Draco a gift, you know for St. Nicolas.”

“Why not? Though, I doubt he'll want to come.” Hermione gestured to the vendor lady that she'd like to have the figurine wrapped and searched for her wallet.

“Why? He's your friend.”

“It's not so easy, you know? Sometimes, relationships between adults are a bit more complicated...” Hermione handed the money to the vendor who held the wrapped snake up for her to take. “But we'll see. And one day, I'll explain what happened, okay? Just not today.”

“Okay.” James tried to hide his disappointment as he grabbed her hand to guide them through the people; it was a good thing she had brought her beaded bag with the Expanding Charm to keep her purchases in. “The stand of Uncle George and Uncle Fred shouldn't be far away.”

 

But the stand was further away than expected, and Hermione started to have problems keeping her uneasiness under control, and the panic kept creeping back, to the point of overwhelming her vision, making her rely on James to guide them through the people. She tried her best to stay calm for his sake, gritting her teeth and taking repeated deep breaths as they walked through the stands.

She didn't quite notice, but James tried his best to make her stop in front of different stands to distract her for a moment while checking out the items on display. They even found a small gift for Nana, knowing how much she loved chocolate truffles. And a nutcracker for his dad, which made Hermione even giggle as she bought it, even though she couldn't blame James on this one as she wanted to see Harry's face just as much.

“Auntie? Are you okay?” James asked a few steps later as she had stopped walking, her eyes closed. “You look pale. Do you want to get away?”

“I'm fine, James. Just a lot of people, you know...”

He quickly looked around, and then discovered an empty spot between two stands where he could bring her. “Is it because of where you were when you disappeared?”

She nodded, relieved that she could lean against the side of one of the stands for a moment. “There were a lot of people too. And some bad things happened.”

“Mum said that we're not supposed to ask about that,” James said, looking at her with great concern. “You want me to call her?”

Hermione shook her head, taking a deep breath to loosen the knot in her chest a bit. “Just give me a minute. But you could tell me a bit about what I missed while I was away...”

James hesitated, clearly unsure about the situation; he didn't let go of her hand, though. “Grandpa took us to see the Autumn Fair in the village. They had Nifflers, and you could bet on one before they were set loose in a field to see which one would find the most gold. And Lily says she saw a unicorn.”

“They are beautiful,” she added, remembering the moment when she had seen one in the Forbidden Forest, in all its pure and silvery beauty.

“But it was just a white horse with a horn when I saw it.”

“Did your Niffler win?” Hermione tried her best to ignore the overwhelming noise and instead concentrate on James' story.

Laughing, he shook his head. “It didn't find enough gold. But it was fun to watch them.”

After a few more deep breaths, Hermione thought that her panic dissolved a bit, at least enough to be able to continue their stroll with the faint hope that she could hide inside the stand of George and Fred soon. “Come, let's go find your uncles.”

James looked at her with his worried eyes before he nodded, not trusting her completely. He was definitely Harry's son, with his heart in the right spot!

* * *

 

“Mum! Finally!” James shouted only seconds later, helplessly trying to keep people away from Hermione who was screaming and turning around, no longer able to separate her visions from reality.

“James, take your sister and go straight to your uncles! If they can, let them bring you to Nana. I'll bring your Auntie home.”

“What is happening with Auntie?” James asked, sounding scared, but he kept pushing people away.

“You did great, my dear, but right now, just take your sister and leave! I'll explain later!”

James nodded, taking one last look at Hermione before he grabbed his sister and ran away towards his uncles.

Ginny was glad that her son had really been mature enough to immediately use the device to call for her, even though she had hoped that he wouldn't have to. Without thinking any further, she tried to catch her friend's hands, who was still moving wildly. After a short struggle, and glad that she had retained most of her reflexes from her time as active Quidditch player, she finally managed to get a hold of Hermione. “You're safe, do you hear me?”

“No, no!”

“You're safe, Hermione, you're safe...” Repeating those words, Ginny Apparated them out.

Appearing in Hermione's living room, she kicked Ginny hard in the shin, causing her to yelp. “I'm a human being!”

Ignoring the pain in her leg, Ginny didn't let go of her friend, but instead, she managed to guide her to the sofa a few steps behind her. “Hermione, please, you're safe! You're back home, and I'm with you... Calm down, okay?”

“Get away! I'm not yours!” Hermione pushed Ginny away rather roughly so that she barely avoided landing on the sofa table.

“Calm down, Hermione. You're safe, okay? No one will hurt you...” Ginny tried one last time to get through to her friend, but then she realised to her dismay that she was the wrong person to do so. Keeping an eye on her, making sure she wouldn't get off the sofa, Ginny fired up the Floo for a call.

“Ginny?”

“Draco, don't ask. Just come over. Immediately.” She saw him nod once before he ended the call; she only had moments to get away from the fireplace before it opened up again for someone to come through.

“What happened—HERMIONE!” Draco didn't lose any more seconds and immediately went over to the still panicking Hermione, grabbing her hand. “I'm here now, my lioness... You're safe, okay?”

Ginny could barely hear Hermione's response, but she was amazed at the almost sudden change in her friend. “H-How...?”

Draco only threw her a glance and shrugged before he returned his focus on calming down Hermione, mostly repeating his soothing words, adding his pet name for her now and then.

Ginny meanwhile felt like an intruder between them, recognising the intimacy of the situation, but she didn't dare move, afraid that she might interrupt the moment. It reminded her a bit of when she had to calm Harry down from his nightmares; it wasn't uncommon that the magic of people who truly loved each other responded deeply to the other—its sheer presence providing a calming effect.

To her relief, Hermione slowly came out of her panic attack, whispering words that she couldn't hear but that made Draco smile softly, even place gentle kisses on her head as he held her close.

It was as if those eight years of separation between those two had never happened—they still cared for each other, and still needed each other.

“Draco... you came...” Whispering those words over and over again, Hermione finally wrapped her arms around his waist, breathing in deeply. “Don't leave me alone, please.”

Trying to avoid falling over, he kept her tight in his arms, rubbing her back gently. With a deep sigh, he turned to Ginny who still watched them from the side. “Her potions are upstairs in her nightstand.”

“Don't leave me!”

“Shh... I'm not going anywhere, my brave lioness.”

Ginny left the living room to climb upstairs where she came across the house-elf who looked something between concerned and downright scared.

“Is the Mistress alright? Does she need help?”

Ginny studied her for a moment before she turned around to find the door to the bedroom. “Draco is with her now. We need her potions.”

“Tibby told Mistress it wasn't a good idea to go where there are so many other people. Mistress is not feeling good enough for it. But Mistress didn't listen to Tibby.” Muttering, the house-elf hurried into the bedroom, only to come back out with a set of vials.

“Hermione wasn't alone–”

“Mistress should have stayed home, where it is safe. How else is Tibby supposed to keep an eye on Mistress, like Master Draco has told Tibby to?” With a sigh, the house-elf held the vials up for Ginny to take. “Tibby will stay up here...”

Not used to having a house-elf in her own house, Ginny was still a tiny bit perplexed at Tibby's behaviour but took the vials with a grateful smile. “Thanks.”

“Is Master Draco going to stay tonight?”

Ginny stopped on the first steps down as she heard the question. It had been a severe panic attack, after all. “Probably. Just be patient with Hermione tonight...”

“Tibby is always patient with Mistress, but is also worried.”

Ginny smiled briefly before she continued her way down the stairs. “We all are...”

Draco was still holding Hermione tight in his arms when Ginny returned to the living room, trying to enter as quietly as she could, holding up the vials for him to see.

“I couldn't make it stop,” Hermione whispered, muffled by Draco's shirt. “It was like being back _there_ , but everything was blurred, unreal...”

He nodded in acknowledgement and briefly pointed to the vial in Ginny's right hand, the Calming Draught. “It's okay. You probably had a panic attack...”

“No, no, no... Not again.” A small sob escaped Hermione, who buried her face in his chest before breathing in deeply, apparently finding solace in his scent.

Draco carefully let go of her, smiling briefly as Ginny handing him the Calming Draught. “You're not alone in this, okay? I'm here, Ginny is here, your friends are here to help.”

“He's right, Hermione. We're all here to help if you need us...” Ginny kneeled down next to Draco, gently stroking over her friend's arm to emphasise her words. “There's no need to play the strong one, okay?”

Surprised to hear her, Hermione turned her head to look at Ginny, and after the briefest of smiles, she nodded. Only then, her eyes widened in apprehension. “Oh gods! James! I must have scared him!”

“Hermione, please! He's okay, he was great and did exactly what he was supposed to do. He even kept people away from you as good as he could...”

“I didn't mean to scare him like that! I really thought I could manage it, but... but there were so many people!” Trembling, Hermione cuddled up on the sofa, blindly searching for a throw to cover herself. “My head just wouldn't stop spinning, so many pictures and faces everywhere... Oh gods, did I... did I _turn_?”

Ginny shook her head. “I couldn't see anything.”

“Take this,” Draco said calmly but firmly as he held up the opened vial. His tone made it clear that he didn't accept any refusal, and Ginny thought she could hear the smallest hint of irritation buried underneath his concern.

Ginny nodded in support of his words when Hermione looked at her in confusion. She didn't want to leave until she knew that Hermione had taken the potion, she was still far too upset and could easily fall back into her panic.

With a defeated sigh, Hermione took the vial and gulped it down, only to flinch at the taste. Once finished, she shifted into a half-lying position, avoiding their gaze. “I should have known better...”

Draco pressed his lips into a thin line, and he let out a small sigh. “We'll talk about that tomorrow with Dr Pendry, okay? No need to fuss about it now.”

Hermione opened her mouth to say something in response, but then refrained when she saw his concern. “I'm sorry.”

“It's okay,” Ginny said with a reassuring smile. “Just take the chance and talk with Dr Pendry tomorrow, it'll help.”

“Yeah, might probably be best.” Taking a deep breath, Hermione reached out, searching for Draco's hand, who offered it willingly.

“I got it from here,” he said quietly, leaning towards Ginny on his side. His expression had relaxed a bit—he was still concerned, but there was also a small comforting smile as he let his thumb draw circles on the back of Hermione's hand.

“Are you sure?” Ginny asked in the same whispering tone, watching her friend relax in response to the Draught and the caresses.

“She'll be fine. It's not the first time I’ve dealt with a panic attack.”

“Okay.” His calm reassurance was all Ginny needed; she knew that Hermione was in good hands now, so she didn't feel guilty to leave her to check on her children. With a cracking sound in her knees, she got up. “I’ll let James know that you're okay. He's probably still worried about everything.”

Hermione nodded exhausted, rubbing her free hand over her face. “Tell him I'm sorry because I didn't mean to scare him like that. And tell him that he really was brave, just like his dad.”

“He was,” Ginny said with a little proud swell in her chest, knowing that she had taught her son the right thing. She even ignored Draco's chuckle, though she wanted to give him a nudge in the ribs for it.

With a last emphatic smile towards Hermione, she finally stepped into the fireplace, her hand full of Floo powder to be cast. “I'll check on you tomorrow.”

* * *

 

Ginny couldn't even step out of the fireplace at the Burrow before James came running towards her.

“Mum! Is she okay?” He grabbed her hand as soon as she made it out of the fireplace, only to pull her towards the kitchen. “Is she going to be okay, Mum?”

“Yes, my dear. Hermione's going to be fine.” Ginny was glad to find Lily playing with her mother, trying to find matching pairs amongst covered cards, while James was still all excited and worried.

Molly looked up as they entered the room, a questioning look on her face. “What happened? James couldn't quite explain, as excited as he was...”

“Hermione had a panic attack at the Christmas market. But James here was smart and brave at that moment.”

“Just like Dad!” James exclaimed proudly and finally let go of her hand to return to the table, sitting down next to his sister.

“Yeah, just like Dad,” Ginny repeated with a chuckle before she went over to the counter to make herself a tea. She would have loved a stronger drink after the events of the afternoon, but not in front of her children.

Molly got up after laying the cards out again for the children to play a round together. “You didn't leave her alone, did you?”

“Gods, no! Draco is taking care of her now.” Ginny sighed and leaned against the counter, waiting for the kettle to whistle.

“Good, good,” Molly muttered absent-mindedly as she looked over to the children who were still searching the card pairs. “He still cares a lot about her. And it's a good thing he _knows_ now.”

Ginny looked at her mother with a surprised furrow of her brows. “You knew?”

Molly nodded with a shrug. “Me and Harry, yes. No one else.”

“I was shocked when she told me–”

“I was too. But she needs all the support she can get right now.”

Watching her children discuss whether a pair of cards belonged together or not, Ginny nodded in response to her mother's words. “You know, watching him soothe her down was like they've never been apart. I'm just glad he's giving her another chance, after everything they've been through.”

“As I know them, they'll be _close_ by Christmas, you'll see.” With a teasing smile, Molly went to the pantry cupboard to find some biscuits from the top shelf. “We should invite him to our fest as well... I still have the green wool somewhere that I used for his jumpers–”

“Do you think that's a good idea, them getting back together?” Ginny asked. “I mean, the break-up was bad and... and–”

“No one knows.” Molly stopped her search for the right biscuit box to send her daughter a disbelieving glance. “We shouldn't push them, though. It's up to them to figure it out.”

Ginny nodded, remembering the brief smile on Draco's face earlier, giving away his feelings for that split second it had lasted. With that in mind, she realised that her mother was probably right—or at least she wouldn't be surprised to see them act more intimately around each other by Christmas. “I wouldn't mind one of your dark chocolate truffles after today.”

Molly smiled broadly as she pulled the box with the truffles out, just as the kettle started to whistle. “Yeah, I think we deserved them.”


	28. Saint Nicolas Day Surprise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I took the liberty here to include a Christmas season tradition that is common in my corner of Europe, and parts of France—mostly because I loved it as a child. And it works out, thanks to Fleur. ;-)
> 
> My usual thanks to the lovely people who keep me running with their patience and support:  
>  _MusicLover19_ for proofreading the chapter, and to _Debbie, Linda, Katie and Evora_ for being as lovely as you are! Love you all! :-**
> 
> Now, enjoy!

“I'm so glad you decided to come,” Molly said as Hermione stepped out of the Floo at the Burrow for the celebrations of St. Nicolas' Day, a tradition that Fleur had brought into the family and which was especially loved by the children. “You look better.”

“Thanks.” Hermione smiled hesitantly, glad that Molly didn't pull her into one of her famous hugs. She could hear the rest of the family chat in the living room, with the children playing and running around, and it brought back a brief image of her panic attack she had suffered only a few days ago.

“You don't have to stay long if you don't feel comfortable, okay? They'll understand...”

“I'll be fine, Molly,” Hermione replied with a soft shake of her head. “It's all about feeling safe, and this is one of those places where I _do_ feel safe.”

Molly smiled and nodded towards the door to the living room. “Ready to join the others then?”

Hermione nodded, but then reached for her small bag to pull out a small wrapped parcel, just as Molly made the first steps towards the door. “I brought something for James. Just a small thank you for being such a brave boy.”

“He really was.”

 

Moments later, Hermione joined the others in the living room, waving at them with an embarrassed smile. “Hello everyone...”

She was instantly greeted with a lot of happy smiles and waving hands, with a few of the adults getting up as well, amongst them Ginny and Harry.

“Great to see you!” Ginny exclaimed with a relieved looking smile as she reached Hermione; Harry was straight behind her, looking similarly glad. “You look so much better!”

“Thanks.” Hermione held up the small wrapped parcel. “This is for James for being such a brave boy.”

“He'll love it, but you can hand it to him yourself; we'll start with the _naughty list_ soon. Bill said he'll do it this year...”

“I thought it was Percy's turn?” Hermione asked in surprise, keeping the parcel in her hands.

“Percy is down with the flu, you know how he is when he’s sick,” Ginny replied, chuckling amused, already starting to turn around to join the others once more.

“You're sure you'll be okay?” Harry asked, a hint of concern in his voice, shrugging in response to the quick glare his wife sent him.

“Yes, Harry,” Hermione replied with a soft smile. “Stop fussing so much about me, okay? You're almost as bad as Draco...”

“Oh,” Ginny said, tilting her head slightly. “Did you talk to Pendry then?”

Avoiding their inquisitive gaze momentarily, Hermione looked over to the others—Fred was entertaining the children, while Fleur prepared the corner for the main event of the evening later, the visit of Saint Nicolas to bring small gifts for the children, based on how they behaved throughout the year. It was a French tradition, but the children loved it nonetheless because they would receive sweets and small trinkets to trade with each other. Meanwhile, the men at the table were in a deep discussion about Quidditch, as usual, while the women talked about everything else in wizarding society, at least from what Hermione could hear. Everyone was here, except for Ron.

“I did,” Hermione finally said after a few more seconds with a soft smile. “Never thought I'd see her discuss schedule options with her assistant because she didn't want to transfer me to someone else... So now I see her twice a week for the panic attacks and nightmares, and once a week with Draco. This is going to be fun.”

“At least you're getting help now,” Ginny replied, briefly reaching out to stroke over Hermione's shoulder in a comforting gesture. “But let's go back to the others before they join us here.”

After a deep breath, Hermione followed Ginny and Harry back to the big table, only now noticing that the others had lowered the volume of their voices to accommodate her. Even the children had changed to a more quiet game, although their excitement was still evident in their smiles and hushed voices.

They made space for her in the corner closest to the door, with George changing over to Bill as they were already discussing the upcoming Quidditch League games over the table, leaving her to sit next to Angelina who was currently listening to Alicia talking about her children's Christmas wishes.

“Welcome back,” Angelina said with a big smile as she noticed Hermione next to her, twitching as she remembered not to pull Hermione into a hug. “So great to see you again!”

“Thanks. Missed you all, so I didn't want to miss this.”

Ginny sat down in the chair on the other side of Hermione, with a cup of her mother's beloved punch. “There you are.”

“Alicia and I were just discussing the Christmas madness in Diagon Alley. It's crazy this year because everyone wants one of these new mobile devices that just came out, but, apparently, the Malfoy Company has a few delivery problems this year. They'd be so practical, especially with George and the children...”

Hermione furrowed her brows in confusion. “Delivery problems?”

Angelina and Ginny both nodded. “There was a note in the Daily Prophet, yesterday or so. I think it's just a way to get attention and up the prices anyway...”

Hermione eyed Angelina for a moment, before leaning back in her chair, sipping some of her punch. She remembered Draco's reluctant answer when she asked him about it during their first dinner cooking, there had to be another reason for the problems his company seemed to experience. And she didn't believe in coincidences either.

“Auntie!” James came over with a proud smile, interrupting Hermione in her thoughts. “Dad said I should come and say hello...”

Hermione quickly glanced over  at Harry who was in a deep conversation with Arthur at the other side of the table, before she returned her attention to the beaming boy in front of her. “That's really nice of you, James. And you know what? You were such a smart boy at the market, keeping calm and doing the right thing, so I brought you a small thank you gift.”

James did a small jump in excitement when she handed him the wrapped parcel. He immediately set about shredding the wrapping to pieces, only to hold the small Gryffindor lion in his hands they had both seen at the market. His already beaming smile grew even further as he recognised the figurine and its importance. “Thank you, Auntie!”

“You went back to the market?” Ginny asked sceptically after her son had returned to the other children to show off his gift.

“Gods, no!” Hermione laughed, noticing her friend's immediate relief. “I'm not that stupid... I had some help from the twins.”

“Glad to hear that... I don't want to imagine Draco's reaction to–”

“Draco?” Angelina asked surprised, cutting Ginny off, and looked at both of them before setting on Hermione. “I thought you two weren't... you know?”

 

However, Hermione was saved from an answer when she heard the volume in the room rise, with people turning to the door. She followed their gaze, only to find Ron standing there, grinning and with slightly blushing cheeks—and then Hermione noticed the person behind him, urging him forward. She didn't think she would see that head of black hair and those sharp green eyes so soon.

Pansy was here.

Hermione wasn't exactly prepared to meet one of Draco's friends yet, but she put on a friendly smile when Ron and Pansy entered, holding hands and everything.

“Hear hear, Ron has brought his date to the family party,” George and Fred let out in unison to everyone's amusement, earning themselves an irritated glare from their brother.

“Shut up, you two!”

Meanwhile, Pansy was greeting everyone surprisingly cordially, although her laugh was probably used to cover for her feeling overwhelmed with the sheer size of the family. Slytherin families were usually smaller, and they didn't have children yet—as far as Hermione knew anyway.

“I'm sorry for being late, but work can be a bit of a bitch sometimes,” Pansy said when she arrived at the other end, leaning down to Molly and Arthur with a warm smile.

Watching them walk around the big table, greeting everyone, Hermione remembered the first time she had brought Draco to such an event. It had been a lunch, one fine Sunday, to the surprise of the people attending—except for Harry and Molly. It had been an interesting day for sure, with Draco braving their more and more inquisitive questions and their sometimes not so subtle taunts. But then, it was Molly who had accepted him into the family after observing them in a moment she had thought they were alone, witnessing his behaviour towards her, how he actually cherished her.

“We have an announcement to make before we start with the best part of the evening,” Ron said with a beaming smile, standing in front of everyone, his hand clearly twined with Pansy's. With those words, he had everyone's attention.

Pansy whispered something in Ron's ear, and he immediately nodded, blushing as she pressed a kiss  on his cheek.

“It took him long enough, but he finally _popped_ _the question_ ,” Pansy said with a proud grin, lifting her left hand to present her engagement ring; the small stone sparkled in the room's warm light. “We're going to be married!”

Hermione winced at the noise erupting in response to the news, yet she was happy for Ron. She even chuckled at the sight of Molly pulling them both into a tight embrace, catching Pansy's yelp and her surprised expression before she caught herself and returned the hug, albeit a bit more hesitantly.

She winced once more when everyone started talking again, the volume drowning her.

“Are you okay?” Ginny asked when she noticed her continued wincing despite the chuckles.

Hermione nodded, not wanting to interrupt the happy moment. “Just the noise, is all. I need to go to the bathroom anyway.”

“I'll check on you in five minutes, okay?”

With an accepting smile, Hermione slipped out of the room, glad to escape the noise for a moment as she stormed up the stairs towards the bathroom on the first floor, which was the biggest one.

 

The silence was a relief as she closed the door behind herself. Her head wasn't ringing any longer, and she felt the unease ebb away, letting her breathe once more. She sat down on the floor in front of the tub, leaning with her back against it and enjoying the cool feel of the porcelain against her back.

She was genuinely happy for Ron to find someone he found worth marrying—she had heard him talk about his relationship with Pansy before and how happy Pansy seemed to make him, even though she knew that he was holding back more details because Pansy was also one of Draco's closest friends.

Draco.

Her heart stung as she remembered what she had seen in Blaise's memory—Draco had been thinking about proposing to her. He wanted to marry her, already had a ring to put on her finger. Right now, it felt like a damn miracle that Draco even agreed to work on rebuilding some sort of relationship between them.

It was a miracle, and she was extremely grateful for it.

To get out of her spiralling thoughts, she closed her eyes and leaned her head against the cool porcelain of the tub and focused on her breathing, the feel of the air flowing into her lungs and out again. She wasn't going to let her anxiety win today.

Hermione was still focusing on her breathing when Ginny tapped on the bathroom door a few minutes later. “Are you okay? Can I come in?”

“Yes.”

Ginny carefully opened the door and stepped inside. With a caring smile, she sat down next to her, so that their shoulders touched. “It was a bit much for you, wasn't it?”

Hermione turned her head to face her friend, simply glad about her patience and understanding. “Yeah, it was. I mean I'm happy for Ron because she genuinely seems to like him.”

“She does. You know, she's been here a few times already since they started dating, and Mum likes her a lot. But I think tonight was the first time she met everyone at once, must have been a bit of a shock.”

Hermione shared Ginny's amused grin. “Totally was.”

“Ron told us that he even went as far as adhering to _proper courting etiquette_ and asked her father for her hand. That takes some balls.”

Hermione smiled at Ginny's choice of words. “It does. I remember Pansy bitching a few times about her family back then, like how they were never quite happy with how she lived her life. But she actually has a big heart underneath all that sarcasm and that hard shell... Maybe Ron is just the right person to bring it out.”

“We didn't know he would bring her along, otherwise I might have warned you at least. I mean... You haven't talked to his friends yet, right?” Ginny leaned in, carefully resting her chin on Hermione's shoulder.

“Gods, I wouldn't even know what to say to them. _I'm sorry for causing all the trouble, but I didn't really mean to_?”

“It's okay,” Ginny whispered with a quiet, reassuring tone. “Maybe it won't be as bad as you fear... But you still have us.”

“Thanks.” Hermione heaved a sigh, even though it didn't really help to ease the tight feeling in her chest. “Remember the memory Blaise brought me?”

“Yeah, we talked about it. You said it was hard to see Draco so broken down.”

“He was about to propose, you know?”

“He was? Oh Merlin!” Ginny sat up to look at Hermione who kept staring at her hands on her lap, slowly nodding. Long seconds of heavy silence in the bathroom passed before she finally reached for Hermione's hand in a comforting gesture. “Sounds like Blaise just wanted to get back at you for the break-up. Understandable, but not helping.”

“No,” Hermione replied with another sigh. “Talking with Draco about the break-up is already hard enough.”

“You two are handling it well from what you told me about it. Maybe he just didn't want to tell you because he's over it, I mean after all those years. Or he would have mentioned something, don't you think?”

“Maybe...” Hermione finally turned her head to glance at Ginny, a small smile curling her lips. The tight feeling in her chest was replaced by a first wave of relief when she saw her friend nod. It made her feel less like an idiot.

“Nah, I'm pretty sure. And he seems to be able to let go now that he knows, because... you know what?” Ginny nudged her gently in the side. “I've seen you two interact while he calmed you down after the Christmas market. He still likes you very much–”

“You think?”

Ginny chuckled at the question. “Yes. The way he acted this morning, he definitely does–”

“This morning?”

“You haven't read the Daily Prophet today, right?” Ginny sighed as Hermione shook her head. “Probably better, you might have incinerated the whole building... They printed a front-page article about the panic attack you had at the Christmas market.”

Hermione couldn't help but growl in response to the information. The goddamn media just couldn't leave her alone, respect was a foreign concept to them.

“Don't worry,” Ginny said with another soft nudge. “You should have seen Draco though; he was furious when he came in. Una from the reception desk tried to stop him from entering but–”

“But no one stops a Malfoy!” Now Hermione laughed as well at the image, because she knew Una to be an elderly witch who was more interested in her perfect nails than actually doing her job properly.

“Right? Gods, we could hear him shout at the chief editor through the closed office door. Blackwood was an idiot to even permit the article to be printed... At least he agreed to print an apology in the Monday edition. That or Draco would stop advertising in the Daily Prophet.”

“Yeah, that's him.” Feeling a bit better, Hermione rubbed her face and pushed a couple of obstinate strands away. “Is Bill entertaining the children now as Saint Nicolas?”

“Yeah, doing a great job actually... But James is more interested in the lion you gave him, while the rest of them trade what they had in their bags.” Ginny quickly looked at the door as if she had heard a noise outside, but then turned back. “Ready to go back down?”

“I think I'm just going to congratulate Ron and Pansy, and then go home. I need to think.” Hermione shifted her legs to get up; Ginny followed her.

 

To Hermione's relief, she found Ron out in the entry hall when she came back down the stairs. “Ron, that is such great news! Congratulations!”

He turned around and immediately grinned once he found her, even opening his arms for the quickest of celebratory hugs. “Thanks! I'm just happy she said yes, despite all the stress recently...”

“She's cool,” Hermione replied, stepping back with a warm smile, bumping into Ginny. “And she brings the good out in you, even _I_ could see that.”

“Thanks,” Ron replied, quickly brushing through his hair, unable to keep his happy smile under control, which was endearing. “You look tired, though.”

“I'm _fine_ , okay? And you better focus on Pansy and the case.” As much as she appreciated everyone caring about her, she would have preferred them not asking her constantly about her well-being. So, with a sigh and a small smile, she bound her hair into a lazy bun to keep them out of her face.

“Ron, dear?” Pansy came in from the living room before anyone else could say anything, brushing over her black top to straighten it. Her smile faltered only slightly when she noticed Hermione. “Leaving me alone with your brothers, that isn't fair...”

“Hi, Pansy,” Hermione said with an unsure smile. “Congratulations on the engagement.”

“Hi, and thanks, _Hermione_.” The lips pursed, Pansy studied her closely, the gaze wandering all over her as if taking note, narrowing ever so slightly. If she had any comment, she wisely kept it to herself. Only her lips turned into a small smirk. “Draco mentioned you this morning when he finally graced us with his presence at the meeting. He was furious–”

“Pans, please,” Ron interjected slightly exasperated before he took his fiancée's hand.

“I know, I know. The situation is _complicated_ and everything.” Pansy sighed, but couldn't hide a content smile when he kissed her cheek. “I'll go see if I can help your mother with the dishes or something...”

They watched her return to the living room before Hermione let out another sigh. “I think I'll leave now. It was a bit much tonight.”

Ron nodded in understanding, his gaze still lingering where his fiancée had just passed through. “We could catch up tomorrow over some late lunch if you want.”

“Our place,” Ginny offered from behind. “I can cook you something, and I'm sure Harry might want to discuss the case anyway...”

“I can't promise anything, but that sounds like a plan,” Hermione said with a nod and a smile. She was relieved that he didn't mind her leaving so early. “But now follow her; I don't want to be the reason for drama starting tonight.”

Ron laughed, then turned around towards the living room. “Nah, she's fine, just surprised. See you tomorrow then.”

Hermione nodded and then watched him return as  well before she turned to Ginny who was still behind her on the stairs. “Would you tell the others? I don't think I can go back inside to say my goodbyes, they'll make me stay...”

With a soft smile, Ginny nodded, opening her arms in a discreet offer of a hug. “Of course. At least you came.”

This time, Hermione accepted the offer, even though it was still only a short moment. “Give James and Lily a kiss from me.”

“Yes,” Ginny replied, pulling away again to let her enter the fireplace. “See you later.”

* * *

 

However, even though Hermione had gone back to her place, she didn't really stay there. Instead, she searched her bags and pockets for the note with Draco's address, but she eventually found it on the small key table in the corridor. When she heard the tell-tale noises of Tibby coming down the stairs, she scribbled a quick note on an empty piece of paper for the house-elf, letting her know where she was going.

And before the house-elf could reach her, Hermione Apparated out again, focusing on the address from the note.

It took her a moment to adapt to the surroundings once she arrived in the neighbourhood of the address, only to then see the house emerge between two others. A beautiful Victorian building, it must be an old family property.

As always, she looked around as the wind brushed through the empty trees, the shadows dancing on the ground and the facades, briefly making her heart race until she recognised the shapes. She steeled her nerves with a deep breath and finally approached the house.

She only had to knock once for the door to be answered.

“Hermione?”

“Hi,” she said, now rather embarrassed for coming over and interrupt his evening. After all, he looked a bit drowsy, wearing a set of comfortable lounge clothes.

“I thought you were at the Burrow tonight?” Draco stepped aside to let her in. “Did anything happen?”

Hermione shook her head as she passed him on her way inside. “Just the usual noise. Except for Ron and Pansy announcing their engagement.”

“Oh.” He had just closed the door when he stopped mid-turn in surprise, gaping for a second before he caught himself and proceeded to lead her inside. “Though she was excited when he invited her to a dinner, with everything–”

“I'm here because I need to ask you something,” she interrupted him, brushing over her neck and shoulder to cover her insecurity. “You don't need to answer if you don't want to, okay?”

His head tilted and with furrowed brows, he put his hands into the pockets of his lounge pants. “Hm?”

She bit her lip, trying to hold his gaze, which grew harder and harder with every passing moment. “Were you... I mean, were you thinking about proposing to me when...?”

For what felt like an eternity, he just stared at her, his face blank, but she could see his eyes darken ever so slightly. “Draco, I-I'm sorry, I shouldn't have come here... I'm really sorry. I just–”

“Yes,” he finally said quietly, with a hint of pain in his voice, yet his eyes seemed to return to their usual pale grey. “Who told you?”

Hermione sighed, she didn't mean to stir things up, yet she had managed to hit a sore spot. “I'm sorry if I hurt you, okay? I should have waited until our next session with Dr Pendry–”

“Who told you?” He stayed calm, even though he let out a heavy sigh that he tried to cover with a brief smile.

“Blaise. He gave me a vial with some of his memories after our first talk. It's just that Pansy's engagement made me think about us, and _what could have been_ if I hadn't had the accident.”

His jaws clenching briefly, he nodded.

“I think I better leave before I do even more damage–”

“Please stay.” Just as she was about to turn around again to leave through the door, he reached for her hand. “It's just something I don't really want to talk about.”

“I won't mention it again, I promise.” The touch of his hand sent a shiver down her spine, yet she held it tighter. “But I'd love to stay a bit longer.”

His face softened into a small smile and he turned around to finally continue his way down the corridor towards the main living room, his fingers twined with hers.


	29. Champagne And Honorary Snakes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To balance out all the Weasley and Gryffindor goodness of the last two chapters, I'll focus on the Slytherins in this one, even quietly furthering the plot.
> 
> In addition, **my biggest thanks** to the following bunch of wonderful people:  
>  a) to _MusicLover19_ for finding the time to proofread my story and give me some additional comments, despite life being hectic right now!  
>  b) _To Debbie, Linda, Katie, and Evora_ for not having lost the patience with me, even though I do have moments of self-doubts while writing or plotting. You're the best! *big hug*

While Ron had used the opportunity of his family all gathered in one place at St. Nicolas' Day, Pansy's announcement turned into a fancy dinner party—celebrating her engagement with her friends, her family, as well as the closest friends of the family.

Draco had agreed to pick up Ron, as Pansy wanted her fiancé to be on time and not completely on his own when he is thrown into the snake pit.

“Oh, it's you,” Ron said as he opened the door to find Draco on the other side with a smirk on his face. “I was hoping for an urgent case.”

“You're not getting out of it, Pansy would kill you.” Draco followed Ron inside as he returned to his bedroom to finish getting dressed. On the bed were the robes Ron intended to wear to the event, and Draco had to admit that it was a good choice in style and colour—either Pansy had taught him or she had bought the whole outfit for him to make sure he looked presentable.

“Yeah, she made that clear this morning.” Ron was fighting with his fly which didn't want to stay in place. “I'm still amazed she said yes. She's one hell of a great woman.”

Draco came into the room when Ron growled in frustration at the defiant fly; it was evident that the redhead barely ever wore formal outfits outside his Auror robes for Ministry events. Without further ado, Draco helped fix the fly in its spot with a simple spell.

“Seems we both have a preference for strong women... Getting married to my ex, almost ironic.”

“She was...?” Ron let out a small, surprised gasp, but then broke out into an amused grin. “Well, you dated my ex at one point too.”

“True.” Draco returned to his spot at the door while Ron finally slipped into his robes. It was a simple but sophisticated cut in burgundy with decorative embroidery in dark green on the sleeves and down the back.

“Saw her yesterday at the Burrow,” Ron said as he smoothed the sleeves, making sure that everything sat as it should. “Reconciliation going nicely, then, I presume.”

“Ask her.” Draco shrugged dismissively. “Ready?”

“Hey, just so that we're on the same page... If you two manage to sort everything out and get back together, I'll be the last one to object. At least I wouldn't be the only Gryff in the group any longer.”

“True. But we'll see... Talking is enough right now.”

Ron nodded in understanding, running his fingers through his hair in a rather nervous move. “Your friends know about your sort-of dates outside the–?”

“Let that be my problem,” Draco interrupted him, narrowing his eyes for the shortest of moments. “One step after another... First, Hermione needs to feel better.”

Again, Ron nodded. “I heard she's now having single sessions with that therapist woman to deal with her experience. Her witness account is a horrifying read...”

Draco wasn't sure what to think of Ron's remark, as Hermione had never mentioned anything about the redhead knowing anything. It was tempting to ask him about it, but then, they had to  be somewhere as soon as possible.

So, he simply nodded in agreement and then made a step away from the bedroom door. “Now, let's go or we both face an upset Pansy.”

 

Pansy was already waiting for them in front of the fireplace when they stepped into the arrival room at her parents' house, located next to the main hall. She looked stunning in her outfit—a shoulder-free ball gown in dark green with embroidery in burgundy covering the bust, and a stunning Rubin necklace to top it off.

Her frown immediately softened into an ardent smile as soon as she saw Ron, pulling him into an embrace just as Draco stepped out of the fireplace, brushing off his own black suit.

Draco watched them from a few steps away, unable to contain a chuckle when they started to kiss. He still wondered how they managed to end up together, the laid-back redhead and his rather high-strung close friend. Maybe they were just what the other needed, giving them the perfect balance.

Hermione had told him a bit more about how they announced the engagement to his family, using the opportunity of them being in one place anyway, and how Molly almost suffocated Pansy in one of her famous hugs. That woman knew how to hug the air out of your lungs!

But watching those two happy fools in front of him now, he understood why it made her think about them and what they would have been like as a married couple.

It was a missed chance.

The question had stung in his heart when she had asked him about it, but not so much as seeing the guilt in her eyes as she tried to apologise for hitting a sore spot. Whatever Blaise thought he was doing by providing her with his memories of that time in his life, it wasn't helpful. It was only making everything more delicate, more complicated than it already was.

But they still spent a comfortable rest of the evening on his sofa, with her leaning more and more into  him until she was basically lying on top of him, starting to doze off as he told her another story about his business trips.

“Now, let's go; the others are already waiting in the dining hall,” Pansy said with a smug smile as she finally stepped back from Ron, checking his robes.

 

The dining hall was, of course, decorated to celebrate the engagement, continuing the colour scheme of their outfits throughout the room—most evident in the flowers and the cloths covering the table and walls. To Draco's relief, they were only expecting a small party, which usually made for a much more relaxed atmosphere.

Their friends were chatting animatedly in a corner, already a champagne glass in their hands—it seemed to be about an upcoming anniversary in the Greengrass family, as far as Draco could tell when they joined them.

“Mission accomplished, I see,” Blaise said with a smirk as Draco stood next to him, while Pansy and Ron exchanged a few words and handshakes with her parents and their friends. “The elf with the champagne is somewhere...”

“Yes. He just needed some help with the fly.” Draco nodded briefly, and turned to the face the Greengrass ladies who were still deep in conversation about the anniversary in their family; it was their grandparents' wedding anniversary, and a big one it seemed.

Astoria and Daphne wore matching dresses, although in different shades of green, probably just to emphasise their support of Pansy, their hair openly falling over shoulders and backs.

“Ladies, can we continue discussing the anniversary tomorrow?” Blaise finally said, placing a soft kiss on Astoria's cheek who blushed momentarily; he stopped them mostly because the freshly engaged couple finally joined them as well.

“Draco, you look good.” Daphne turned around with a big smile, opening her arms to a quick greeting hug. “Enjoying your _time-out_ , it seems...”

“And you look stunning, as always,” he replied as she pulled away again, ignoring the little friendly jab.

The elf with the tray full of champagne glasses finally appeared, and Draco grabbed one to have his first drink tonight. He was actually looking forward to the evening, as formal as it appeared.

“To Pansy and Ron,” Daphne said into the round, when everyone had a fresh glass, raising hers.

Sipping his own champagne, Draco noticed Astoria eyeing him with the slightest of frowns while she hovered her glass in front her lips; her quick glance over to Ron who had his arm wrapped around Pansy's waist made clear that she understood that Pansy's engagement to the redhead would also bring them back into contact with Hermione, since she was one of his best friends. And Astoria didn't like  _that_ particular connection.

Draco was glad that she chose to keep quiet about Hermione for the evening—at least as long as no one mentioned the name. This was Pansy's moment after all. Instead, he saw her wince as the first drops of her champagne hit her tongue which he found curious as she usually loved to have a glass or two at any social event.

“Did you know your mother was invited as well?” Blaise then asked, nodding towards the entrance, from which now the sound of excited chatter waved over to them.

With a slightly more forced smile, Draco turned around, only to see his mother congratulate the Parkinsons on the engagement of their daughter. “I didn't know, but I'm not exactly surprised.”

“They're old friends,” Pansy said with an amused smirk before she emptied her glass, discreetly switching with Astoria. “I'm just glad we dodged their plans of marrying us, right, Draco?”

“Merlin, yes! That was one bad idea!” Draco exclaimed with a chuckle. “Weasley here is a much better choice...”

“Our honorary Snake for the night,” Blaise added, earning himself a mocked huff from Ron. “Nah, you're cool, making our Pans happy, which is no easy feat, believe me.”

As everyone now watched the parents exchange happy pleasantries, Daphne leaned in towards Draco. “Your mother looks stunning... I can only wish to have  _that_ figure when I hit her age.”

“Lots of Mediterranean food and long walks along the French coast,” he replied with a shrug and a warm smile before emptying his glass, as his mother had spotted them.

Narcissa had chosen a flowing dress in black, an elegant statement of her grace, while she let her blonde hair cascade down over her shoulder. After another quick hug between the women, she walked over to Draco and his friends to greet them.

 

“Congratulations, my dear!” Narcissa said as she kissed Pansy's cheek moments later. “And a rather handsome catch, too!”

Draco and Blaise couldn't help but chuckle at the blush that crept up on Ron's face in response to the compliment.

“Guys, please!” Astoria let out, even though she couldn't help a brief chuckle, because Ron's apparent embarrassment was too amusing. She still clung to her empty champagne glass, with no intention to exchange it for a full one.

Narcissa finally greeted everyone else as well, ending with Draco who greeted her with the customary kisses on the cheek. “You look good, my dear. You had your session with Dr Pendry then?”

Draco nodded, adding a soft smile in the hope that it would be enough. “She gave me some new perspectives.”

“That's great to hear,” Narcissa replied before she looked around to finally get a drink. “I missed your smile, you know?”

From the corner of his eye, Draco saw Ron press his lips together and inspect his glass more closely.

However, when his mother was a few steps away to find the elf with the champagne, Pansy leaned forward, ignoring her fiancé's silent protest. “We saw Hermione yesterday... At the Burrow I mean. Is she–?”

“Pans, please!” Ron uttered with sharp indignation. “Not tonight...”

“What?” she huffed back at him. “I'm just curious, okay? She did look tired, you know?”

Draco nodded, not wanting to draw more attention to the situation. “She's okay.”

However, Astoria had still overheard their brief conversation, her eyebrow as high as she could raise it. “Who?”

“No one,” Draco replied evasively, barely keeping a heavy sigh from escaping, just as Pansy rolled her eyes before throwing Blaise an irritated glare.

“Oh no, I don't believe you,” Astoria said in a low voice, throwing him a warning glare. “Blaise told me about your sessions with _her_.”

“Love, not tonight, okay?” Blaise tried to intervene, with an exasperated glance to his friend who simply shrugged and emptied his glass.

“How would you know she's okay?” Astoria continued, her voice now above a whisper.

“Sister, let it be. It's Pansy's evening–”

“You really want to know, do you?” Draco let out with gritted teeth, glaring at Astoria for her relentless overbearing; at least his mother hadn't heard anything as she was talking to another guest. “Fine. She was at my place yesterday after she left the Burrow, because your damn husband _had_ to tell her about my plans back then, and she wanted to know the truth. You wanted me to deal with my private life, and that's what I'm doing. So let it rest. Understood?”

Astoria glared straight back at him but eventually nodded. “For tonight, and for Pansy's sake.”

“Good enough.”

Draco was saved from any further discussions by the announcement that the dinner would be served now. Food and drinks were all that was needed to have a great evening, and with Daphne as his table neighbour, laughs were almost guaranteed.

He was here for the laughter, after all.

* * *

 

“You finally grace us with your presence,” Blaise said when Draco entered his office on Monday afternoon, just as he closed the file in front of him.

“Shut it. I'm not here to exchange pleasantries,” Draco retorted as he arrived in front of Blaise's desk, only to lean down. He had hoped to find Blaise alone before they would gather for another meeting to figure out their next steps to deal with the current problems—he had saved his irritation for this moment, as Saturday had been Pansy's evening, and he didn't want to destroy it with an argument.

“What is it?” Crossing his arms, Blaise leaned back. “Though, let me guess—Hermione...”

“Yes. Hermione.” Draco moved towards Blaise, still hovering over the desk. “What were you thinking when you gave her those memories? Because you actually went behind _my back–_ ”

“She needed to know _what exactly_ she did to you, and you weren't going to tell her.” Blaise rose to his feet and leaned forward, meeting Draco over the desk. “So I did.”

“No, what you did was complicate things!” Draco replied, his voice sharp and raised. “She didn't need to know about my plans to marry her back then. _That_ was–”

“It was–”

“No. Let _me_ decide what I tell her and when. It’s _my_ life you’re fucking with.”

“I see. It's not about finding closure for you, is it? You want her back.”

“What’s it to you, hm?” Draco was in the mood to shout at his friend because he was fed up with the constant judgement. He flexed his fingers because the temptation was growing to draw his wand and hex him. “Maybe I want her back, but–”

“You had a goddamn breakdown because of her, mate! A _breakdown_!”

“Yes, I know!” Huffing in frustration, Draco straightened up, still glaring at Blaise. “And you all _keep reminding_ me... For Merlin's sake, yes, it was fucking painful to go through it all, but you don't get that I never hated her for that.”

“Mate, I–”

“Don't. You heard me at Pansy's party—you want me to sort out my private life, and that's exactly what I'm doing. _You_ wanted that, so let me do it _my_ way. And don't interfere just because you don't like one of the  possibilities.”

“Just... why?” Blaise sighed, straightening up as well. “I mean, she hurt you.”

“She did, yes,” Draco admitted, crossing his arms. “But she was the one back then, and she still is today. You know we're working through everything with Dr Pendry.”

“Yes, I know–”

“Then you should know that _we're doing_ _everything_ to work through our issues. It really isn't easy, barely bearable at times even, to talk about certain topics, but we still do it. And you know what? The more time I spend with her, the more I want to just _let go_ of all that pain and  anger, because it's exhausting to keep going like that. I want to look forward and just know that she'll remain a part of my life, whatever it's going to be in the end.”

Crossing his arms, Blaise pressed his lips into a thin line, even shaking his head briefly. “Look, I know it's a complicated situation...”

Draco brushed  through his hair, his frustration only growing. “Maybe you'll get it that way... I feel home when I'm with  her, like I'm back where I belong. You have no idea how much I missed that all those years–”

“Mate, I get that, okay? We're all just worried that–”

“I want that back,” Draco said with a quiet but firm voice, his hands by now in his pockets. “I know you don't like it, and I know it's going to be tough either way, but I want _that_ back.”

After a second of silence, Blaise opened his arms again. “It's just that  _we were there_ , with you.  _We_ picked you up, made sure you got through it... And she left  _us_ as well.”

Draco nodded in understanding. “Maybe one day, she'll tell you why she did what she did. It's not mine to tell, so all I can say is that she is sorry and she  _is_ trying to make up for it.”

“Alright,” Blaise conceded, holding his hands up in defeat. “I'm not going to comment on it any further, as long as you keep working with Dr Pendry. And I think it might be appropriate to ask for an apology at one point. Then we'll see from there...”

“I think she knows that.”

“Good.” With a brief smile, Blaise checked his watch. “We still have a moment before the meeting. How was your morning?”

Draco leaned against the desk, eyeing his friend with a raised eyebrow. “Accompanied Hermione to her first single session to deal with her trauma from the kidnapping. She asked me because she felt anxious about it.”

“Yeah, I remember the front page about her panic attack in the Prophet; it wasn't exactly nice...”

“You should have seen her that day. She was a complete mess.” Draco remembered how desperately she clung to him that day, only slowly recovering from her panic attack, even with the help of the Draught. “Let her deal with that first, it has been a horrifying ordeal.”

“I understand that.” Blaise nodded, leaning against the desk next to Draco. “The few things I heard from Pansy about it... _Horrifying_ seems to be the right word. But enough about it.”

“Thanks,” Draco replied with another short nod. “Just don't go behind my back again. It really wasn't helping...”

“I won't.”

“Good.” Now that the issue of the memories was out of the room, Draco felt less tense, even a tiny bit relieved about the acceptance from Blaise. Well, _acceptance_ was probably still the wrong word, but at least there wouldn't be any more resistance from his friend, and that was enough for him right now.

“How's your wife?” Draco then asked then with a soft smile. “She didn't have any drink at the engagement party.”

“She's going to see a doctor about it after the meeting,” Blaise replied with a shrug. “Probably nothing, though.”

* * *

 

As he was officially still on his time-out, Draco leaned back during the meeting and mostly listened to the discussion about possible steps to deal with the current situation—factory hall one was still closed and the second hall was reaching its production limit.

It didn't help that they had brought out a new device earlier this year that now everyone wanted to buy for Christmas. There was no chance they were going to meet the demand this year, and Draco wasn't looking forward to the headlines in the media because they were simply waiting for him to fuck it up.

“I did a calculation for several options,” Daphne said, “because like you mentioned we can't keep everyone working as long as factory hall one is still closed for safety reasons.”

“What do you propose?” Blaise asked, going through the notes he had taken until now. “I mean, we should avoid firing people if we can.”

Daphne was looking through her files almost frantically now. “It was on the pile before I left my office–”

A knock at the door saved her from rambling on further, and seconds later, another woman entered the room, a file in her hands and a tired, apologetic smile on her face. She pushed an obstinate strand of her brown hair out of her eyes. “I only saw it now, sorry.”

Draco thought he recognised the woman, but he couldn't place her right now—she might have looked less like a motherly figure the last time he saw her; it didn't help him  remember the name, though. He threw Daphne a questioning look, but she dismissed him with a shrug and a silently mouthed  _later_ . Not exactly the answer he wanted, but given the subject they were currently discussing, it could indeed wait.

“Yes, that's what I was looking for.” Daphne handed everyone a copy of the file with a quick swish of her wand. “As you can see, there are several options, but I think the last one is the best. We reduce the work hours in the remaining factory hall but keep full pay for everyone.”

“I can see,” Blaise said absent-mindedly, checking the file he had just received. “Every other option favours one group over the other. Is it feasible?”

Daphne nodded. “It won't change much in the expected profits. I'd rather do it this way than having to lay off people. We have enough bad press with the reports about  the productions problems already.”

Blaise finally looked up and around, only to land on Draco in the end. “What do you think?”

Draco took his time to answer, skimming through Daphne's options again and again. They still hadn't managed to solve the safety problems in factory hall one; by now, it was more than a simple hiccup, and he could feel an uneasiness creep down his spine. “It's your decision, Blaise. But if it's feasible without any real loss, then why not?”

“Okay. Noted.” Blaise wrote down another point in his notes. “Inform everyone to organise the hours to cover the shifts and so on. And make clear that we keep paying full salary, no need to provoke an unnecessary strike or something.”

“Alright,” Astoria said, as she was responsible to get those orders and information out to Head of Departments as well as the supervisors in the company.

“Anything else? Pansy, you said you had some news...”

“Yes.” Pansy sat up when Blaise mentioned her name; she had been listening to the previous discussion with a rather bored expression, waiting for her turn. “And you won't like it. Remember the plagiarism suit from the small French company that we offered an acquisition deal similar to the Hungarians? The court at the Ministry dealing with the suit accepted it.”

“They- _What_?” Draco was just as surprised as everyone else in the room, but he was the first to gather himself again. “You said that they won't have any chance...”

“Yes, I said that,” Pansy retorted. “Sorry, but I was informed about the decision only this morning, and I'm still sorting through the details. All I can say right now is that it looks like we need to provide proof in court.”

The alarm in Draco's head rang louder with every word Pansy uttered; the more she said, the less he liked it. It was not a coincidence any longer. “Okay, do everything you can—hire people, consult whoever you need to consult, whatever. Just make sure we  _win_ .”

“Of course... At least the court date is in early February, so it should be enough time...”

“If that's all,” Blaise said with a sigh, piling the documents in front of him. “I'd say we're done for today. I definitely need a coffee now.”

 

“So,” Draco said shortly after, leaning against the door to Daphne's office that she had entered only seconds ago. “Want to tell me now who that woman was? I remember the face...”

“Come in, then we can have a drink before I need to go back to my work.” With a smile, Daphne walked over to the small cabinet on the other side of her office that usually held several bottles and some glasses. “Although it looks like I have only some pumpkin juice left.”

“I'm fine.” Draco entered her office, closing the door behind him before walking over to the corner where she had placed a sofa and a table, which gave the room a more comfy atmosphere.

Moments later, she joined him on the sofa, sitting down on the other side, a glass with pumpkin juice in her hand. “You're right to remember her face. She used to work for us years ago before she had children... She came by over a week ago, asking whether she could return to her old position.”

“Name?”

“Riverside. She said her husband lost his job recently...”

Draco winced when he heard the name. “He was arrested in connection with Hermione's case.”

“Really?” Daphne shot up with a shocked expression, spilling a few drops of her remaining juice, sighing as she searched for her wand to clean her blouse.

He nodded and rubbed his eyes as they felt a bit dry. “Maybe it's just coincidence...”

“Well, you never told us any details about the case! If I had known, I wouldn't have taken her back. But with the end of the year and now all the additional things going on, I'm glad to have her help out.”

“I know.” He sighed, only to cover it with a reaffirming smile. “Don't fire her—at least not yet. But keep an eye on her, and better don’t let her in on the accidents. Just in case.”

Checking her cleaned blouse for stains she might have missed, she briefly looked up. “You think she might–?”

“As I said, it might just be a coincidence...”

Daphne sighed and then put her wand on the small side table before grabbing her juice once more. “How was the rest of your weekend? I mean the engagement party was some fun, right?”

He chuckled. “I can imagine that your head was worse than mine yesterday. At least you didn't have to meet my mother for lunch.”

“True.”

Despite both their chuckles, Draco couldn't shake his unease off, something told him that they were about to face interesting times. For once, he hoped that his instincts were wrong.

 


	30. Dancing Around The Christmas Tree

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Surprise, this update comes one day early. I plan to be out of the house for most of the day tomorrow, so I wouldn't really have the proper time to update then.
> 
> My usual thanks to my beta, _MusicLover19_ , for proofreading the chapter and providing further comments, and the usual lovely bunch of ladies who still have the patience to listen to my doubts and ramblings while trying to get this story written. I love you all! :-*
> 
> And thanks to everyone who still reads and comments on this story—you all make my day!
> 
> Now, enjoy!

“Hermione! Great to see you again!”

“Great to see you too, Theo!” She smiled at the warm welcome back from her fellow Auror and occasional team partner as she entered the open desk area at the Auror Department. It was late morning, so most of her colleagues were still at their desks, updating their files. At least those that didn't have a night shift assignment.

He came up to her, walking through the lined-up desks, a big smile on his face and opening his arms in an offer for a hug. “You look good.”

“I feel good enough right now.” She discreetly declined his offer, not wanting to risk anything right now. “Working with a therapist to deal with everything.”

He nodded, and then leaned against the nearest desk. “Potter said you also work things out with Draco?”

“Yes.” She looked down for a moment, avoiding his gaze, before she looked up again with a nod and a shy smile. “It's hard, but yes, we _are_ working things out...”

“Honestly, that's great to hear. Just you two finally talking again, regardless what it's going to be in the end.”

“Thanks.” Her smile softened at his words, and she leaned against the desk opposite his. “Is Harry in already? He wanted to see me.”

“He's in his office, yeah,” Theo replied with a nod. “He wants the files about every single arrest and their charges on his desk before they are sent over to the Prosecution Office. You know how it works...”

“Yeah.” She definitely remembered how much of a pain in the backside the Prosecution Office could be before they would even consider a case to be solid enough. She had had enough cases in her Auror career where she had to do additional research to back up the charges. “Tea later?”

“If you're up to it, sure.” He rose to his feet, still smiling warmly. “I'd love to hear a bit more about how you're doing...”

“See you later then.” After a wave, Hermione turned towards Harry's office to see what he wanted from her.

 

However, she couldn't just enter Harry's office without visiting her own next to it. It was still almost exactly how she had left it, down to the piles on her desk. Seeing it now, it felt like a place from another time, from the past. Once inside, she noticed that the frame on the shelf had been moved, the one where she kissed Draco on the cheek just as Ginny took a picture of them.

Had he been here? Had he seen the picture, and maybe even wondered why she had kept it?

At least now things looked better once more, maybe they might get to _that_ point again. However, as much as she longed for it, she still struggled with trusting his repeated words of acceptance, because she struggled even more with trusting herself enough. She hated those doubts, and it was overwhelmingly exhausting to constantly fight against them.

Not to mention the creature constantly making itself heard in her head, although it was calmer whenever she spent time with Draco.

Did he really not care about her being a Harpy? Had he _really_ forgiven her the mistake of breaking up with him?

“Hey, you managed to come...”

Hermione startled as she heard a voice from the door, pulling her from her thoughts. Holding the picture tight in her fingers, she looked over, only to see Harry standing there. “Yes. It's nice to be back...”

“Thinking about you and Malfoy?”

“Maybe. It's still complicated enough, and I just _don't know_...” She returned the picture to the shelf before joining Harry at the door.

“I'm sure you'll figure it out,” he said with an affirming nod before stepping outside with her following him. “Now, are you up to answering a few questions? Plus I have a few suspects you might help me with...”

“You know I couldn't see anyone in the audience.”

“Yeah, I know.” He led her over to his office, which was still the same chaotic system it ever was, the complete contrast to her organised desk.

“Would you let me visit Riverside later?” she asked as she sat down in the visitor's chair opposite him.

“What would it bring you?” Harry asked with a concerned voice, putting up his usual recording device. “You probably only end up upset and angry, and then I'd have to call Malfoy to pick you up–”

“Harry, please. I want to see that cockroach and let him know what I've been through thanks to him!”

“Hermione, no.” He remained calm in response to her short outburst; he even took off his glasses to clean them, as he always did as a distraction. “As much as I understand the sentiment, I can't let you do that. It's against the rules, you know that.”

“Pfft! He didn't care about the rules either when he sabotaged everything–”

“I know, I know.” He put the glasses back on his nose, his gaze relaxing again. “He'll get what he deserves, okay? I'll make sure of that...”

With thin lips, she accepted his answer; it had been a long shot anyway. She had been able to forget about Riverside while she was at home, mostly focused on her reconciliation with Draco. But now that she was back in the Auror Department, she just felt the urge to see the person who had been willing to sabotage her rescue just because he followed some stupid and dangerous organisation, based on a false sense of power. “Fine.”

“And I don't want to risk the progress you made with your therapy already, okay?”

She nodded, still pressing her lips together, and let out a heavy sigh. “I said _fine._ Now, let's get it over with...”

 

Hermione was glad that Harry tried to keep his questions as to the point as possible as he questioned her for additional information she might remember, now that the initial shock and exhaustion had worn off.

She had tried to dive into her memories in a search for more details, but Harry finally stopped the interview when the techniques Dr Pendry had showed her failed to keep her grounded, a panic attack with a flood of unwanted images threatening to take over.

A few minutes later, the sound of those last gasps of her opponents still rang in her ears as she sipped her tea Harry had ordered to be brought down from the cafeteria. In front of her lay a a row of pictures of suspects they still held in custody because their stories hadn't yet been verified.

“Do you remember or recognise any of those?” Harry asked, sitting opposite her, holding his cup of tea up to his lips. “I know it's just a lucky shot, but maybe you do.”

She reluctantly shook her head, her eyes fixed on one of the women in the line in front of her; she wore a dark burgundy dress that was dangerously low-cut, her arms covered in long black sleeves. “The guards looked all the same to me with their uniforms and helmets.”

“What about that woman you keep staring at?”

“I'm not sure...” She took a sip from her tea and sighed. “But looking at her brings up images of the rescue. I mean, the moment Draco found me.”

“Was she there?”

“Maybe. But I was so focused on Draco at that moment that I didn't really notice anything else. That colour though... Hm.”

The longer Hermione stared at the picture of that woman, the more she was sure that she had been there, probably in the background somewhere. And the longer she stared at the picture, the more her creature screeched in her head, as if it recognised the woman.

“What's her story?” she asked a few moments later. “She doesn't look like she had to fight in a pit.”

“She was forced to play the companion for the night to some patrons–”

“Draco too? I mean, he was at the pit as a patron, right?”

Harry nodded, albeit rather reluctantly, his lips pressed into a thin line. “He managed to gain a lot of information from her... And she showed him the way to the cells.”

Hermione finally looked up from the picture, straight at Harry who had leaned back in his chair, still holding his cup of tea up. “I think you can let her go. I mean, if it's safe enough for her... If Draco trusted her with the information, then you should too. You know how little he trusts people outside his family and friends.”

“True.” He emptied his cup and placed on the table before he leaned forward again to collect the pictures and put them back into the file folder. “You vouch for her, then.”

“Yes.”

“Alright.” He got up, the folder in his hands to place it on his desk. “I'll have Theo check her out once more, and if everything seems fine, I'll have her transferred to one of the safehouses. Maybe she can contact her community herself from there...”

* * *

 

“What about this one?” Hermione asked in the afternoon the next day, as she pointed at one of the Christmas trees sold in a corner of Diagon Alley—it was medium-sized, with dark-green foliage and enough branches to decorate. “It would fit nicely in the corner of the living room, don't you think?”

Draco stepped up to her to have a look at the tree she had chosen, checking their surroundings for other people. “Better than the other you considered? I mean, this one is a bit smaller...”

“But I think it would fit better into the room,” she replied, checking the branches for their stability. She was glad that he had immediately agreed to come along when she told him about her plans. After Saint Nicolas' Day at the Burrow, her place seemed a little empty, as if it was missing something. And it was a good excuse for more time spent together as encouraged by Dr Pendry.

“Well, it's up to you...”

She nodded absent-mindedly and continued to inspect the tree more closely. Both her tree choices had their merits—the first one was bigger, more impressive even, and something they would have put up when they were together, while the current one made for a more intimate impression, better fit for her living alone and just wanting a bit of decoration to cheer her place up.

She had already allowed Tibby to put up subtle decorations like a few twigs here as well as some lametta and baubles there. It gave her a feel of normalcy, something that made her smile when she saw it and look forward to the holiday.

She still had to buy gifts, though.

“It looks like you want this one,” he said with an amused tone in his voice. “Let's pack it up and bring to your place. The salesman said thirty minutes, and I think they are almost over. So, we still have the chance to get out of here without anyone seeing us.”

“Yes. This one.” With a smile, she nodded and reached for his hand. “Although, I still need to pick up the baubles at my old place to decorate it.”

“I have something better.” He waved for the salesman to wrap the tree up for transport and the payment.

 

Shortly after, Hermione was still putting up the tree in her place, trying to find the best position. She was curious what Draco had meant earlier with _something better_ , but he had refused to give her any details when they walked to the next Apparition point with Draco levitating the tree carefully behind them—she had been glad for it to be a quiet night in Diagon Alley, with no reporters or any other curious folk following them.

But now, she wanted to know what he had in mind. It had only been a few minutes since he had left to collect his surprise, but her curiosity was slowly killing her.

To her relief, the fireplace came alive seconds later, announcing his return. Holding a box in his hands, Draco stepped out of the fireplace; his teasing smirk only grew when he saw her curious expression, eager to know what was in the box.

As soon as he handed her the box, she opened it, only to be surprised to find very familiar items in it—items she hadn't seen in years but that brought a lot of memories back. “You... You kept them? All our baubles and the small figures?”

He nodded and reached for one of the hand-blown baubles depicting a beautiful winter scene. “I kept the flat for a long time with everything in it, even though I couldn't stay in there any longer. I sold it about two years ago, and just kept the smaller things.”

“It was a beautiful flat. Comfortable and everything...” She held up another bauble in red and decorated with ornaments. It was one they had received from her parents, most likely when they had moved into said flat.

He nodded as he turned around to place the first bauble on the tree, a more pensive expression on his face now. “It was difficult to sell it, and I haven't touched the money I received for it.”

Hermione nodded, barely containing a sigh. She understood the sentiment, because even for her, the place held some of her best memories as well as the most heart-breaking one. She placed her bauble on a branch next to his. “What do you think? Would we still live there if it wasn't for... you know?”

“Maybe.” He shrugged as he lifted the next bauble from the box, only to smile when he recognised it. “Hey, I think we bought that one in Vienna, remember?”

“Oh yes, we did!” Hermione replied with a blush. “I remember the stand lady finding us cute because you wouldn't stop peppering me with kisses in front of her. And those macarons!”

“You loved the raspberry ones...”

“They were heavenly!” She let out a short chuckle. “Perfect mixture of cream and pastry...”

“I think we bought baubles at every Christmas market we visited. My favourite is still the one we bought in Strasbourg, though.” He held up the next bauble, a seemingly simple one with a very delicate ornament painted on it. “That was just after your promotion, remember?”

She nodded and reached for the bauble in his hand. “I remember that I was so happy about it, finally getting somewhere I'd be able to do something. And the Christmas market there was just perfect...”

“Can I ask you why didn't go back to your previous position when you came back?” he asked, tilting his head, showing a soft smile. “I mean, I'm sure they would have taken you back without hesitation.”

“I was scared I'd have to explain what happened and where I've been. I left them rather abruptly too, you know? So Harry offered me a position in his department if I passed the exams needed.”

“Which you did, of course.”

“Wasn't easy, though. Lots of physical stuff, and you have to keep it up as well.” With an embarrassed smile, she placed the bauble in her hand on of the branches, close to her first one. “I miss the work, but I don't really miss the training.”

“Do you want to go back?”

She sighed as she turned to face him; he was going through the remaining items in the box with a rather melancholic look as he moved them around. “Honestly? I don't know right now. I mean, I do like the job, but it can take a while, like months, to work through everything with Dr Pendry, and I can't just sit around until I pass the medical exam...”

“Just take your time, okay?”

Brushing over her hair and with her lips turned into a thin smile, she nodded.

“Everything alright?” he asked quietly when she didn't say anything, reaching for her hand.

“Yes. I just had that thought in my head—what if _it_ never happened. I mean the accident and everything connected to it.”

He gently massaged the palm of her hand, repeatedly brushing over her wrist as well. “We'd probably be married with _a lot_ of children running around. Not all ours because they would be best friends with the Potter children...”

“And you and Harry would argue about whose son was responsible for the latest shenanigans,” Hermione continued, momentarily indulging in the fantasy. They had discussed children back then, and she had started to think about it more earnestly when Ginny announced her first pregnancy. But then the accident happened.

“Ginny and I would probably place a bet on who would hex the other first over it.”

“Oh yes, you totally would!” He laughed, and for Hermione, it was one of the best sounds, as it chased her previous heavy thoughts away.

“You know what's missing?” she asked a few seconds later, pulling her hand away to wander over to the shelf with some of her music; with a grin, she pulled an album out and held it up. “It took me a while to find another copy because I lost it in my last move.”

“Merlin!” Draco exclaimed when he recognised the cover, only to laugh again. “You played those Christmas songs so much, I could probably still sing them all.”

Joining his laugh, she placed the disc in the player, only to be amused by his mocked groan when the first song started playing—only bell chimes at first, and a female voice singing, until it turned into an uptempo number.

She started to sing along, even trying to give a performance to his amusement. “ _All I want for Christmas is you..._ ”

“Hermione...” He shook his head, chuckling at her over-the-top impersonation of the singer.

However, she kept her act up, it was simply too much fun to see him trying not laugh out loud. “ _I just want you for my own, more than you could ever know..._ ”

“Gods, and I thought you changed!” He could no longer contain his laughter and just kept shaking his head at her performance as he watched her sing and dance for the rest of the song.

She was a bit out of breath when the song finally ended. “Haven't done that in a while...”

“You danced through the whole flat doing this song,” Draco replied, shaking his head once more before brushing a few strands out of his face.

His still amused gaze changed into something else when the next song started playing, a classic with a more measured, solemn style—something her parents would play at home. As the low voice of the female singer started, he offered his hand.

“What...?” But then she understood his gesture, and she let him pull into a slow dance.

However, it wasn't a close dance, they were simply holding their hands and moving in a slow circle. For Hermione, it was like back then, just another of their many silly but also quiet moments they had once shared. She missed them so much, and the more time she spent with Draco now, the more she felt drawn back to him, the more she wanted him back, despite all her doubts.

But was it the same for him? Or was she reading too much into all the things he had done for her so far, or all those small things like this dance?

The song eventually came to an end, yet she kept his hands in hers, not wanting to let go just yet. “Can I ask you something? It's just that I feel like we're dancing around it, even more so in our last session with Dr Pendry...”

“What do you mean?” Without letting go of her hands, he sat down on the armrest of her sofa.

“Maybe it's a stupid idea to ask this... But... But have you ever thought about what it would be like if we got back together?”

It was an eternally long moment of heavy silence between them, despite the music still playing, before he finally sighed and squeezed her hands. “It's not stupid, because I would be lying if I said I never thought about it. I mean, we sort of do a _couple_ therapy...”

She chuckled, feeling relieved that she didn't hit another sore spot with him. “True. It _is_ a bit weird.”

“But it does help us, doesn't it? I think we're both able to let go of what happened, and look at us now, we enjoy spending time together.” He pulled her closer; a smile softened his earnest expression. “I missed you a lot over the years, missed what we had... We were a good team, after all.”

“We were,” Hermione said, surprised how quiet her voice sounded.

“I still care about you, okay? Just right now, I'm trying to figure out if I can trust my own heart. Most of my friends tell me to be cautious, and maybe they are right when they say that I wouldn't survive another break-up. So, the question is, is it worth the risk?”

“I understand that,” she replied, avoiding his gaze by looking at their hands. “Sometimes, I don't trust myself either... And I don't know whether I'm worth the risk, to be honest. I haven't trusted anyone anyone enough to let them get close and find out; I don't know what will happen if I let go of my control–”

“Shh... It's okay. No need to worry about it tonight.” With a reassuring smile, he let go of her hands, only to cup her cheeks, his thumbs brushing over the skin. “How about we finish decorating the tree and then see what Tibby has prepared for dinner? Or you could do another one of your performances to that _abysmal_ Christmas song?”

“Hey, I made you laugh with it!”

“Yes, you did! Because you're so off-key and over-the-top, it's unbelievable...”

“I'm not off-key, pff!” She nudged him into his chest. “Just no one can reach the heights of Mariah! And for that, you can finish decorating the tree yourself while I have some fun singing to the songs.”

“Sounds like I need to get used to it again, hm?” With a smirk, he got up and went over to the Christmas tree to hang the rest of the baubles while she let the first song play again.

“ _All I want for Christmas_...” Performing to the song a second time, Hermione felt an odd relief growing, or rather hope based on his last words.

Maybe. Just _maybe_.


	31. Would It Be That Bad?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas has arrived. ;-)
> 
> I almost ran into a minor plot hole with Ron and him knowing about Hermione's creature, so I tried to cover it here in a few retrospective lines. Given that he works on the case, and that they had a lunch to catch up after the St Nicolas Day (where he announced his engagement to Pansy), I figured he has to know by now—so much for keeping track of details. *headdesk*
> 
> My usual thanks to my lovely beta MusicLover19 for proofreading and providing a few additional comments! You're a sweetheart!  
> And thanks to the wonderfully supportive bunch of ladies who are still patient enough to listen to my doubts and ramblings while trying to write this story. I love you all! :-**

“Oh, wonderful! You could both make it! Merry Christmas!” Molly exclaimed with a beaming smile as she came out of the kitchen to the fireplace where Hermione and Draco were just brushing off the soot from each other.

“Sorry for being late,” Hermione replied with blushing cheeks, just as Draco carefully brushed over her hair. “I couldn't find the small vial with the Calming Draught I wanted to bring just in case.”

“At least we brought the presents,” Draco added, as he unshrinked the bag they had brought along. Even though they had invited him explicitly to this year's Christmas Day at the Burrow, he still felt oddly out of place. After all, his last visit here had been years ago, just before Hermione had come back from South America. Since then, he had avoided the place not to run into her.

“That wasn't necessary, you know? We're already glad you're coming at all.” Yet Molly couldn't resist a glimpse into the bag when she received it. “Wow, so many....”

“Just something small for all of them,” Draco replied with a sheepish grin. After Hermione had told him about how much they loved his devices, he couldn't resist organising one for each of them, trying to take their jobs and needs into account when choosing them.

“Let's go inside; the others are already waiting for you, the half-starved lot!”

Hermione laughed at Molly's words before she reached for Draco's hand. “Always the same story...”

Molly nodded in amusement and then turned around to lead them back into the living room from where chatting noises were coming. “You can sit at the door, just like at Saint Nicolas, if you're okay with that.”

From the way Hermione nodded, she was more than okay with that, as it gave her the option to get out if it started to get overwhelming. She had taken a dose of the Calming Draught before they had left her place, but you never knew.

“Just beware of the mistletoes... I think Fred and George jinxed a couple of them to suddenly appear above your head.” Molly winked at both Hermione and Draco before she turned around towards the kitchen to finish her cooking.

“Auntie is here!” Lily came running with her arms stretched out when they entered the room, the rest of the children waved through the room. “I have a big present for you!”

The majority of the adults turned around with a warm smile and a wave, only to gape momentarily when they saw Draco behind Hermione.

“Welcome back, Malfoy!”

“Good to be back.” Greeted thus, Draco could finally shake his nervousness, although a tiny rest remained because he understood the picture they presented by arriving together. He nodded briefly when he saw Ron and Pansy at the other end of the table and smiled when she returned the gesture.

While Hermione took her seat next to Fleur, balancing Lily in her lap, he let his gaze wander further through the room, stopping once he recognised the flaming turquoise hair next to the familiar dark brown in the middle of the other tableside. He had completely forgotten how close his aunt and his cousin were with the Weasleys, expecting to see them the next day when they would have dinner with his mother.

Andromeda waved at him when she realised he was basically staring at her and then nudged her grandson; Draco had to get over to greet them now.

Keeping an eye on Hermione, who seemed fine in the chaos so far, Draco indeed went over; his aunt was already standing when he arrived at her end. “I didn't expect to see you today...”

“My dear, _your_ presence is the bigger surprise. And arriving with Hermione of all people...”

“Let's just say, I took the chance,” he replied kissing her on the cheeks, even going as far as giving her a brief hug.

“Does your mother know?”

“She knows about the one session with Dr Pendry...” Draco sighed but tried to cover it with a smile.

“I see,” Andromeda replied with a brief understanding nod. “I won't tell her, I promise.”

“What are you two talking about, Gran?” Teddy finally joined them, trying to bring a semblance of order into his hair with a few brushes of his hands. It wasn't really working, though. “Harry said something about Hermione bringing someone. I didn't expect it to be _you._..”

Draco smirked. “No one did, from their initial looks. You'll get your present tomorrow...”

“So,” Teddy continued, showing the same smirk. “You and Hermione.”

“Teddy, don't,” Andromeda said, chastising her grandson with a warning look.

“Let him, it's okay. He'll get the payback tomorrow...”

Andromeda raised her eyebrow at both young men in front of him, trying to be firm with them, but unable to keep the facade up for more than a few seconds. “I know. And I'm honestly glad you're working things out with Hermione, whatever the result is going to be...”

“Thanks.” Grateful for her words, Draco pressed another kiss on her cheek and then had a quick look over to Hermione, who was still entertaining Lily on her lap, smiling a lot—making his stomach flutter for a moment. He was glad that she had found her smile again, after everything she had been through.

He had always loved her smile.

“Cousin, you might want to stare a bit less obviously...”

Pulled from his musings, Draco mocked a scoff at the grinning Teddy. The boy was cheeky underneath all that Hufflepuff friendliness, probably from his mother's side, but Draco didn't mind. With a soft smile, he turned to his aunt. “I think I'll join Hermione again, making sure she's okay.”

She nodded, returning the smile, only to nudge Teddy once more, who was still snickering. “We'll talk later. Maybe you can tell me a bit more about everything...”

Just as Draco turned to go back to Hermione and take his seat next to her, Molly came back out of the kitchen, carrying the first pot to place it on the table. “Lunch is ready! Everybody at the table!”

 

The children could barely sit still during Christmas lunch, as they knew that as soon as everyone was finished, they were allowed to _finally_ open all the presents that were still lying underneath the Christmas tree on the other side of the room.

“Look,” Hermione whispered, nudging Draco gently into his side to gain his attention before discreetly pointing towards Molly at the top of the table. The children had all come up to the matron, with Teddy and Victoire behind him steadying the youngest ones, and they were now discussing animatedly.

“Looks like they have something planned,” he replied as he leaned towards her, his gaze following her finger. He was glad that she was still doing so well, despite the noise level during the lunch; she even kept smiling repeatedly, sharing stories with Fleur and Angelina who sat opposite her.

Molly at the other end of the table nodded to the children's delight, and they immediately ran over to the tree and fished several presents from the pile. And to Hermione's complete surprise, they all came up to her, the elder ones each carrying a present in their hands.

“They wanted to let you have your gifts first,” Teddy explained while James next to him nodded firmly. “They all know that you went through a bad time, so they wanted to surprise you...”

She was speechless for a second, but then gathered herself and broke into a big smile. “Thank you all! That is so so sweet of you!”

James was the first to give her his present, and he even gave her a peck on her cheek. “Merry Christmas, Auntie!”

“Merry Christmas!” Hermione replied, giving him the briefest of hugs in return.

After James, Hermione received more presents than she expected, ending up with a little pile in front of her, from handcrafted items to a small plush animal and other things the children thought would help her when she had a bad day. Of course, she gave every child a brief, but grateful hug, only to then watch them return to the Christmas tree where Molly was now sorting and checking each present with the help of Ginny.

While Hermione was unwrapping her presents with an ever-growing smile and small appreciative squeals, Draco kept looking into the round because, as welcome as he felt in their midst, it was still an odd experience after such a long time away. He simply took in the excited children shredding the wrapping of their presents and showing it off to everyone, and the adults helping themselves to a second helping of the desserts still on the table. And seeing Pansy spoon-feed Ron some of the desserts on her plate made him chuckle; it was like seeing a completely new side of her.

All in all, it was a relaxed atmosphere, one of a family who loved getting together.

“A Sickle for your thoughts,” Hermione whispered as she leaned towards him with a teasing smile, one of the last unopened presents in her hands.

“Nothing really, I was just watching the others a bit.”

She nodded and set about carefully unwrapping the present; she always loved the suspense at that moment, that was why she still did it. “You have plenty of time for that, giving out all the presents usually takes a while.”

 

The children were already playing with all their new toys when it was only Hermione's and Draco's presents left a while later, with everyone around the table sporting their newest Christmas jumper from Molly.

Before Draco could say anything, she rose to her feet to walk over to the Christmas tree. “Shopping is rather difficult right now for me, but with Ginny’s help, I think I found something for everyone–”

“We're glad you're here at all!” George said, with the others loudly agreeing with him.

“ _Ouais_ , and you're doing great tonight,” Fleur added with one of her warm smiles.

Now Draco got up as well to help her give out the presents. Her sheepish smile at all the friendly words was endearing. “They are right, you know?”

“You think?” Hermione asked as she checked the name tag on the first present before levitating it over to the recipient, Harry, who broke out in laughter when he unwrapped the nutcracker Hermione had bought him on the Christmas market to keep their small tradition of silly presents going.

“Yes.” Draco sent the present in his hands over to Ron, who unwrapped it just like his nephews and nieces, shredding it to Pansy's disapproval. He kept an eye on Hermione as they sent over their presents to the others, and he couldn't help but adore the brief blushing of her cheeks whenever the recipients let out a happy squeal.

Soon, it was only his presents left.

“I didn't know whether I should bring something, but then Hermione gave me an idea,” he said with a smirk and a quick glance to her at his side. “I do hope that I managed to get everyone something you like.”

And with quick, measured swishes, he sent all the presents to their respective recipients, only to hear them gasp and squeal in astonishment.

“Oh my... Merlin, Draco!”

“Draco! That is so cool!”

“Woah, how did you know?”

Hermione laughed at the reactions and reached for his hand to squeeze it. “I think you did it. You're their favourite now...”

“They like the presents, not me...” He twined his fingers with hers, enjoying the touch of her skin against his. At the other end of the table, he could see Pansy inspect the present he had chosen for Ron, something he could use for his job, only to have her throw him a questioning look. It was clear that she wanted to say something to him, yet didn't leave her spot because Hermione was still standing next to him.

“We have one last present,” Molly said as she rose up to her feet, with a teasing smile. With a small groan, she pulled a neatly wrapped present from behind the tree to hand it to Draco who was momentarily stunned, not having expected anything.

It was a green woollen jumper with a D on its front.

He had to swallow hard because those jumpers were only given to those considered being part of the family, and he still treasured the last one he had received. But this one topped it. “Molly, that's... that's... Thank you.”

“I didn't know a simple jumper would make you speechless, Malfoy,” Harry threw in with a taunting smirk, earning himself a hard, disapproving nudge from Ginny, causing him to yelp in pain.

Molly pulled him into a hug. “No, thank you for helping to save our Hermione... She might not be here if it hadn't been for you.”

Draco only nodded, holding his breath as the matron held him tight for a moment. He felt overwhelmed by the gratitude he could he see on every face when he looked over to the table; it was even visible on Hermione's face as she stood next to him.

“Mum, you're suffocating him!”

“Shut up, Fred!” Molly retorted as she finally let go of Draco, only to pull Hermione into a quick half-hug because she simply couldn't resist.

“I'm George, Mum!”

“You're Fred,” Molly said firmly, but with a chuckle. “You still have both ears.”

“Damn.”

That made the whole table laugh, giving Draco the chance to inhale in an attempt to ease the overwhelming feeling. He relaxed a bit when Hermione reached for his hand once more, as it provided a grounding touch.

“Let's go outside,” Hermione whispered as Molly returned to her spot at the table. “I need a break.”

 

The silence in the garden as soon as Draco closed the door behind them was a relief. It allowed for him to let out the breath he had been holding in ever since Molly had hugged him. His mind was still reeling from the gratitude, something he hadn't expected at all.

Hermione sat down on the small bench next to the door, overviewing the garden in all its winter beauty; he joined her seconds later.

“Are you okay?” she asked, leaning into him. “You're so quiet all of a sudden.”

He took her hand in his, caressing it with soft brushes over its palm and back. “I just didn't expect such a gift.”

“I remember the first time Molly gave you such a jumper. I think you were just as speechless back then.”

“I still have the last one somewhere,” he replied, leaning his chin on her head. “I couldn't bring it over myself to throw it away.”

For a few long seconds, neither said a word, simply enjoying the silence before a barely audible _plop_ interrupted it, causing them both to look up.

It was a mistletoe.

“That's what Molly meant when we arrived,” Hermione said with a groan. “It's almost like they expect us to... you know?”

“Let them expect what they want,” Draco replied, smiling softly at her. “It's up to us to figure it out, like we discussed with Dr Pendry.”

“I know.” She sat up, squeezing his hand briefly. “It's just that if this was the twins, then the mistletoe won't go away until we... ugh...”

“Until we kissed?”

She nodded, her cheeks blushing.

“Would it be that bad?” he asked, tilting her head up gently with his free hand so that she had to look at him, his gaze lingering a moment on her lips as she kept licking them. Mesmerized by the move of her tongue, he let his thumb run over the lower lip.

What would it be like to kiss her? Would it still feel the same as it did back then? Would it be different?

“Draco,” she whispered, the voice hitching ever so slightly. She was looking at him with her big, questioning eyes, covering his hand on her cheek with hers. “Are you sure? We-We can force them to lift–”

“Shh,” he stopped her and slowly leaned towards her to press a first tentative kiss on her lips, with no further expectations. His heart jumped a beat when he finally came in contact with them—they were still as soft as he remembered them, even if they were slightly more charred now. It brought back memories of so many kisses, from heartfelt and ardent to hungry and passionate.

But right now, this was perfect.

 

Hermione was stunned at first, but then basically melted into the touch of his lips. He wasn't coaxing her into anything; instead, it was such a simple kiss, more like an offering. She didn't want it to stop yet, so when he pulled away, she stopped him with her hand on his neck and claimed his lips.

Her already racing heart felt like it was about to explode when he responded in kind—he was still tentative yet eager to get to know her again. The first touch of his tongue against hers sent a shiver down her spine. Encouraged like this, she deepened the kiss, eager to just get lost in the feel of it all.

For the first time in years, everything inside her was humming—excitement building in her body, letting her grow more courageous, and even a bit more demanding. Those eight years of being separated were completely forgotten for the duration of the kiss.

This was perfect.

But Draco eventually broke off, leaning his forehead against hers and breathing heavily. “I... We... What just happened?”

“Mistletoe,” she replied in a breathless whisper, placing a peck on his lips because she didn't want to let it end just yet. “Maybe we just needed it as a little push.”

“Maybe...” With an eager smile, he kissed her again, claiming her more ardently than before, as if there was a need to catch up what they had missed in the last eight years.

Right there, Hermione knew that any effort would be worth it, because him kissing her like that meant that she had a chance, however small. That was why she so eagerly responded to his renewed kiss, digging her hands into the strands on the side of his head.

They were still kissing when the door opened again.

“Hermione?”

“Shit!” Shocked, and with wide eyes as if caught doing something she shouldn't, Hermione pulled away, hoping they weren't discovered. A quick glance over to Draco showed that his cheeks were tinted with a blushing pink while he tried to bring his hair back into order.

It was Teddy who stepped outside with a questioning look, only to soften into a teasing smile when he saw them. “Am I interrupting something?”

“No, no, no,” Hermione replied, smiling nervously. “We just needed some fresh air. You know how noisy the family can be.”

“I can go back inside,” Teddy offered with a shrug before he leaned against the door frame.

“You have a question, I guess,” she said with a smile and took a deep breath. Her heart was still racing, but she was slowly coming down from her previous high of kissing Draco. “And you don't want to talk to Harry about it–”

“Merlin, no! You're the cool aunt, after all...”

“I think I go back inside.” Draco rose to his feet, brushing once more through his hair.

“Don't be surprised if Nana wants to talk to you...” Teddy let his cousin pass inside before taking his seat on the bench.

“I'll survive,” Draco replied with a smirk and closed the door behind him, leaving them alone.

“I get the impression that I interrupted something between you two,” Teddy said after a few seconds of silence, rubbing his thighs. “I mean, I sort of remember the break-up, so it's nice to see you two being on such friendly terms again.”

“It is nice, yes.” Hermione couldn't help but smile sheepishly for a brief moment. “But you wanted advice, right?”

He nodded, albeit reluctantly so; his hair now a vivid shade of purple. “Just promise you won't tell the others.”

“You know I won't.”

“Okay.” He rubbed his neck. “It's-It's about Victoire. She acts all weird recently and keeps fighting with me, and I honestly don't know what I did wrong.”

“I saw her throw you a few angry glares during lunch–”

“Yes, that's one of those things. At Hogwarts, she keeps saying that I don't spend enough time with her. But I have so much on my plate with the prefect stuff and then the OWLs. I tried to tell her that, but she wouldn't listen.”

“You want me to talk to her?”

“Please!” He sighed in relief, his hair returning to its usual turquoise. “I really don't want to hurt her, but I just don't know what else to do...”

“It's okay. I'll try to talk to her, but I won't promise anything. It might as well be that, in the end, you two have to talk about it, too.”

“Still, thanks.” He didn't sound entirely excited about the possibility of having to talk to Victoire, but he didn't complain about it either. “I'm just confused because last year, she was really cool and I didn't mind helping her out with her homework. But since the new semester started, she keeps following me around, which doesn't help with all the prefect stuff I have to do. I only get a break in the Hufflepuff common room, or when I change my look...”

“It's okay. I'm sure we'll find a solution.” Hermione stretched her back and then got up. “Sorry, it's starting to get chilly.”

He joined her, a teasing smile curling his lips up. “Nah, you just want to save Draco from Nana.”

“Maybe. Just keep whatever you think you just saw to yourself. The situation is already complicated enough without them interfering.”

“Yeah, I get that. But I do hope it works out for you two.” He opened the door and stepped inside before holding it open for her.

 

Stepping inside, Hermione saw Pansy watch her with a raised eyebrow and a sceptical look. It was like a reminder that apologising to Draco might have been the easy part, because she still didn't know how to apologise to them, and whether they could deal with the whole truth behind it. She knew she had to at one point if she ever wanted to get back together with Draco, just not _how._

And how much did she actually know? Did Ron tell her about the creature? He did promise at the lunch at Harry’s place to keep it between them, but she was still scared that it might already have made the rounds in the family regardless.

His initial reaction to the truth about her creature had baffled her—while Ginny had run out of the kitchen in disappointment, he had only shrugged as he had guessed it already, based on the files and the circumstances she had been found in.

Maybe it was the job, dealing with all kinds of people and creatures, that gave him enough wisdom to accept it. Or Pansy had a bigger influence on his emotional maturity than she had guessed from what he had told her about his fiancée.

With a quick smile towards Ron and Pansy, Hermione moved towards the kitchen, where she finally found Draco; he was indeed talking with Molly—although he was mostly listening and nodding with an almost solemn expression.

“...all I'm saying is that you should be sure about it. I know it hasn't been easy for either of you, and then there's that business with–”

Standing in the door frame, Hermione coughed to get their attention.

“Hermione!” Molly said, breaking into a smile when she saw her. “We were just talking about you.”

She came inside to join Draco, even reaching for his hand. “I figured. It's not like you could keep secrets in this family anyway...”

Molly furrowed her brows in confusion. “Secrets? Did I miss something?”

They both shook their head vehemently, but Hermione felt her cheeks burn in addition. “No.”

“Alright, you two. I get it. It's complicated enough,” Molly replied with a warm smile and a wink.

“It is,” Draco replied with a nod, looking relieved and quickly squeezing her hand.

Molly smiled when she noticed the gesture. “The others are having another coffee... Want to help me bring it out?”

“Let me talk to Victoire first, then I'll help you–”

“Is that what Teddy wanted from you?” Draco asked, his eyebrows raised in question.

“I'll tell you later,” Hermione replied with an apologetic smile. “Probably just a misunderstanding between them.”

* * *

 

A couple of hours later, they arrived back at Hermione's place, with her feeling exhausted, but still better than expected. With a sigh, she let herself fall on the sofa in the living room, smiling as Draco placed her presents on the sofa table in front of her. “I am dead.”

“You did pretty well,” he replied, sitting down next to her feet. “And that after you said you were a bit scared...”

“Maybe it was different because _you_ were there as well.” She propped herself up on her elbows to look at him with a warm smile. “I still sort of wish that Teddy hadn't interrupted us in the garden.”

A spark flashed up in his eyes, the only hint that it was the same for him. “Molly is right though. We do need to be sure.”

“I know.” With a frustrated huff, she lay back down, staring at the ceiling while she let her thoughts run free for a moment. Of course, Molly was right—they had both been burned badly in the past, neither of them wanted a repeat! But they made such good progress over the last few weeks, with just talking, reconnecting, and mending their hearts.

And today, they even kissed!

“Hey, it's okay.” He patted her shin gently to comfort her.

She wiped her eyes. “Maybe I'm just tired. It's been a long day...”

He nodded, seemingly absent-minded. “We still have a session with Dr Pendry after Christmas...”

She understood. They should use it to discuss what happened today and what it meant for them. And maybe even discuss the chance of _rekindling their relationship_ , of getting back together. As great as the kiss had been, she hated the uncertainty it brought.

What if it didn't work out? What about her creature? Could he really accept it? After all, he hadn't seen it yet. No one had.

“We'll figure something out, okay? No need to think about it now.”

She nodded and looked down at him; his smile helped her relax a bit and get out of her spiralling thoughts.

“By the way, what did Teddy want to know?”

“Oh, Merlin! Complicated story...” She chuckled, glad about the chance of subject. “I think Victoire likes him a bit too much and is just jealous of everyone, especially other girls.”

He laughed, patting her shin again. “We had other problems at that age... More of the _trying not to die_ variety.”

“True.” She found his laughter contagious, and she couldn't help but let out a short laugh herself. “But honestly, we are no better...”

“Probably.” Still chuckling, he tried to stifle a yawn, but it was stronger. “I think I better leave now. I need a clear head for tomorrow. Lunch with my mother.”

She lifted her feet to give him more room to get up, trying not to let disappointment get the better of her—she was exhausted, but she had spent such a nice day with Draco that she didn't want to let him go just yet. “Come by afterwards?”

“I might.” With another smile, he reached for the pot of Floo powder before he stepped into the fireplace. He disappeared seconds later in the green flames, still smiling.

Hermione was already looking forward to seeing him again. But right now, her bed was the only thing she wanted to get closely acquainted with today, if only she made it off her sofa.

 


	32. The Days In-between

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title of this chapter basically refers to the days between Christmas and New Year's Eve; alternatively, it could have been dubbed “Draco And The Women In His Life”. ;-)  
> However, it's the last breather before I bring back the emotional stuff.
> 
> Thanks again to the wonderful and lovely bunch of ladies keeping me on track! Love you all! <3

“Master has a visitor.”

Draco had barely made a step inside his flat the Friday after Christmas when his house-elf showed up to take over his coat as well as the winter robes he had put on top for the afternoon. “Let me guess—my mother?”

Tilly shook her head with her usual solemn expression, carefully holding his coat and robes in her hands to put them away in the wardrobe. “The young Lady Parkinson is waiting in the living room.”

He let out a sigh, and then brushed through his hair to bring it back to order after letting the cold winter winds run through it as he had flown a few rounds on his old broom on his family estate.

However, Pansy coming here was not a good sign; so, bracing himself, he entered the living room, only to find her examining his shelves, pulling out books to have a closer look at the covers.

“I thought you wanted to spend the bridge days in bed with your soon-to-be husband?”

Pansy turned around, a book still in her hands and an amused smirk on her lips. “Well, his job, you know? Harry called him in about an hour ago, so I decided to take the chance. He promised to make it up...”

“So, it's not about the company, then?”

She shook her head, turning the book in her hands before putting it back in its place on the shelf. “No, everything is running as smoothly as it can, last I heard.”

His unease ebbed away a bit as he approached the leather sofa in the middle of the room. “Have a seat then.”

Pansy chose the armchair next to the sofa, waiting for him to be seated as well before she leaned back.

“Can Tilly bring something for Master Draco and his visitor? Tea with biscuits?”

“Yes, please.” Draco leaned back as the house-elf disappeared into the kitchen.

“I thought you had a different one?”

“Tibby helps out at Hermione's hiding place.”

Pansy put her chin on her hand as she eyed him closely for a silent moment. “You do a lot for her.”

“Yes, what about it?” And with Pansy's remark, his unease about her visit returned.

“I'm not judging you, okay? I just _noticed_. And maybe I have a deeper insight into the whole situation thanks to dating Ron.”

“Maybe.” He sighed and crossed his arms, impatient for her to explain why she came to his place.

“Look, I saw you two kiss at the family Christmas at the Burrow, and you were both pretty much into it. Don't worry, I haven't told anyone at the get-together, but I did mention it to Ron when we were back home because I couldn't stop thinking about it. And now I know why.”

“Yes?”

“I haven't seen you this happy in years.”

The house-elf returned with the tea and the biscuits, placing them on the sofa table, and then stepped back. “Tilly will go back into the kitchen to prepare dinner.”

“So, you came here to tell me just that?” Draco asked with an eyebrow raised in question before leaning forward to pour the tea into the cups.

With a soft smile, she shook her head. “All I want to say is that if she still makes you _this_ happy, then I'm willing to forgive her. I only want a genuine apology from her, and I don't even need to know all the details. I just want her to say that she is sorry to my face.”

Draco was surprised about what Pansy had just said, because, so far, all of his friends and family had opposed the idea of his reconciliation with Hermione. And now Pansy sat here in his living room, telling him she didn't mind.

To gain a few more seconds, he lifted his cup to his lips to have a first sip. “Thanks.”

“Forgiven, not forgotten. After all, Hermione did make a mistake back then, a horrible one even.” Her soft smile widened as she poured a few drops of milk into her tea. “But if you can let go of the past, so can I.”

“What about the others?” he asked after an eternally long moment of silence, blowing carefully over his tea.

“I don't want to make promises; at least not before she has apologised to me... But it won't be easy, especially not with Astoria.”

He sighed before drinking some of his tea. “One step after another...”

“Yeah.” Pansy nodded, holding the cup to her lips, only to lower it again. “You know, Astoria did go to see that doctor after our last meeting at the company, but she hasn't told anyone yet why or what they found. Just Blaise looked shocked after she returned...”

“She'll tell us soon enough, I think.”

“Yeah.”

* * *

 

The following day, Draco was out in Diagon Alley to settle a few things before the year ended. He was glad to catch some fresh air to sort his thoughts—Pansy's visit the day before as well as the kiss on Christmas Day with Hermione were still both heavily on his mind. In his rather aimless walk, he was only careful enough not to bump into people crossing his way. For once, he didn't care whether people stared at him or even pointed their finger at him as he was recognised.

“Mr Malfoy! Mr Malfoy!”

Draco rolled his eyes when he heard his name being called, but he didn't slow down his steps. From the tone of the voice calling him out, it could only be a reporter, one of those relentless bloodhounds.

“Mr Malfoy! Please! A minute of your time for a statement!”

Irritated now, Draco increased his steps. He was not in the mood for any contact with the press, not after what they had dared to print about Hermione and her panic attack!

“Kerr, are you out of your bloody mind?!”

Draco stopped mid-step to turn around, as he recognised the furious, female voice. He was just fast enough to see Ginny drag her colleague off, who was wincing in pain as she had her fingers tightly wrapped around his upper arm.

Against his better judgement, he followed them at a distance, only to find them in a side alley, with the young man pressed against a wall and Ginny staring him down.

“You know what Blackwood said! _Do not approach nor write about Ms Granger or Mr Malfoy personally_ –”

“I-I know. But his company is refusing any statements about their–”

“Don't,” she scoffed at him. “Do as Blackwood says, or you might lose your job. I will make sure of that...”

Remaining at the entrance to the side alley, Draco couldn't help but chuckle at the scene in front of him. “It's okay, Ginny.”

She turned her head to face him, her previous scoff immediately softening into a broad smile. “I just saw him follow you. He is a little too eager sometimes.”

Kerr let out a deep breath when Ginny stepped back, lifting his hands as an offer of surrender when she narrowed her eyes at him. “I'm sorry, okay?”

“Apology accepted,” Draco replied. “And you'd do well to follow your boss' orders.”

“Yes, sir.” With an apologetic smile, Kerr picked himself off the wall and finally made to leave the side alley.

“He's good, just, as I said, a bit too eager,” Ginny said with a smirk, as she joined Draco at the exit.

“He works for the economics section, right?” He turned around, nodding as an offer to follow him. “Maybe I should let him have an interview...”

“Don't spoil him,” she replied with an amused laugh. “But what are you doing here? It's Saturday after all...”

“It is... Drink?”

“If you're paying, I won't say no.”

 

“How is the family?” Draco asked as they arrived at the Black Quill; he held the door open to let her enter first.

“Harry's at work as always, but at least he tried to take yesterday off for a prolonged weekend, but was still called back to work. Same story today... We thought we could use the afternoon for us, since the children are at George's place right now, playing with their cousins. So, here I am, enjoying a rare afternoon to myself, doing some shopping. And maybe find some ideas for future columns.”

“Sounds like you deserve a drink,” he said as they sat down at the bar.

She laughed and had a look at the drinks listed on the board above the bar. “Two children are a handful, so I admire my mother more each day for raising seven of us...”

“What can I get you?” the bartender asked with a professional smile on his lips.

“The _Sex On The Beach_ sounds enticing,” Ginny said with an amused side-glance, “but I think I'll go with a _Bloody Mary_. I never get to drink it with Harry. He doesn't like vodka.”

The bartender nodded, his smile widening even. “And for you, sir? The same as usual?”

“You should try something new,” Ginny said with a daring look, leaning against the counter.

Draco couldn't help but smirk and shake his head. “I have a simple taste. Only the best...”

“A Bloody Mary and a Firewhisky it is...” And the bartender set about to prepare their chosen drinks.

“...and a White Russian, if you would be so nice.”

Both Draco and Ginny turned around to see who just added themselves to their drink order, only to get off their stools as soon as they recognised Andromeda standing behind them.

“I didn't expect to see you here,” Draco said, leaning in to greet her with the customary kisses on the cheek. “I thought you were already in France.”

She shook her head. “Your mother doesn't expect me to arrive before tomorrow, but I'm looking forward to spending a couple of more quiet days. Teddy is old and responsible enough.”

“He'll stay at ours most of the time, anyway,” Ginny piped in, and the women hugged briefly but cordially.

“So,” Andromeda continued when she was seated at the bar, “we didn't really have a chance to talk over Christmas, which is a pity. I would have loved to hear a bit more about you and Hermione...”

The bartender returned with their drinks. “Voilà, ladies and gentleman...”

Draco was glad for the interruption to gather his thoughts before answering. And because he needed some of the Firewhisky for his nerves, as talking about Hermione was always rather loaded and difficult these days.

“Good stuff.”

“Yes, he knows how to make a proper cocktail,” Andromeda replied with a side-glance to the bartender who was already serving another patron behind Draco. “If I were younger...”

“Merlin!” Draco groaned at his aunt's words. Sometimes he wondered if they were related at all—she was so different from his mother.

Both women laughed, but then Andromeda nudged him gently in the side. “Don't worry, I was only joking.”

After a sigh, and a small smile curling his lips, he watched them exchange a few more teasing looks over another sip of their drinks.

“But now, how is Hermione doing? She looked good at the Weasley Christmas, despite everything I heard that she's been through.” Andromeda set her drink down on the counter, facing her nephew with a curious, but earnest expression.

He briefly switched between the women before he shrugged. “We have another _couple_ session on Monday...”

“Yeah, you did look pensive on the street,” Ginny said, leaning on her elbow, showing a similarly curious expression. “Was it about the kiss?”

“You kissed her?” For a second, Andromeda gaped at him before she caught herself.

Draco nodded, unable to keep a smile from appearing on his face, only to have it broaden when he saw his aunt's face relax. “You really can't keep anything secret in that family...”

“True,” Ginny replied with a dismissive shrug. “But I told Ron and Harry to keep it between us. You know how they still fear my Bat-Bogey Hex.”

“Remind me to never piss you off.” Relieved, he took another sip from his Firewhisky. “But yes, I was thinking about Hermione. You know, the more time I spend with her, the more I feel like I'm back home.”

Andromeda nodded, not trying to keep a melancholic sigh from escaping. “Yes, that's the one thing I still miss sometimes...”

“It's just...” He sighed, looking at Ginny who furrowed her brows in slight confusion. “Can you keep a secret?”

Now Andromeda and Ginny shared a look before the older woman turned towards him again with a nod. “If it's about Hermione, then yes.”

Draco breathed in deeply. Maybe his aunt could help him with some advice after all. “She told me why she broke up with me, and I understand her now. I don't know exactly how it happened, and I'm not going to force her to tell me, but she was turned into a creature in an accident about half a year before... you know. She said it was a Harpy, I think.”

Andromeda's eyes widened as she stared at him. “That is... unbelievable. She's a...?”

Draco couldn't remember seeing his aunt grow as pale as she did at that moment. “Yes. Just please don't tell anyone...”

“She never said anything!” Andromeda uttered, still trying to comprehend the news. At least the usual faint pink tint of her cheeks slowly returned. “And you said it was an _accident_?”

Draco nodded, brushing through his hair in an absent-minded move. “I just wish she had told me then, we would have found a way to deal with it. But she was so scared I'd leave her for it... I mean, in our first session, she said that she was _tainted_ , or _broken_ even. It was painful to hear.”

“It's...Merlin!” Covering her shock with her usual soft smile, Andromeda put her hand on his on the counter. “I mean I understand her. It must have been a pretty scary experience. Maybe if she had talked to me about it...”

“What do you mean?” he asked, raising his eyebrow in question.

“Don't tell me you forgot who my son-in-law was!” Andromeda slapped his hand in mocked outrage.

“Remus?” Ginny piped in with a chuckle, who had silently listened to the conversation while enjoying the last drops of her drink.

“Of course I remember! You told me enough stories about them, and Hermione, too, when we watched Teddy!” Mocking a huff, he emptied his Firewhisky, only to then appease the women with a smile.

“You're lucky you're my only nephew...” Andromeda swatted him again, showing the same amused smirk. “Look, what I wanted to say is, Remus was the same, always scared that he wasn't good enough for my daughter. I don't even blame either of them, our society still isn't ready to accept people with that kind of... _history_.”

“It's a bit better now,” Draco said with a nod. “And you know I don't mind employing them if they have the right skills.”

“Hermione did a good job teaching you some new things... All I want to know—because this is really between you two, my dear—are you sure about it? You still accept her the way she is?”

“Yes.” He turned the empty tumbler between his fingers, mostly to distract himself for a moment. “I know it's not going to be easy, and I also know that it won't be the same as before, though everybody seems to think that. But she's still _Hermione_. It's just... I mean, how did Dora deal with it, with the whole werewolf thing?”

“Honestly? I don't know. But she trusted Remus above everything else. She was there when he needed her, never gave up on him. And maybe Hermione needs exactly _that_ —your trust. That you'll be there no matter what.”

“She's right, you know? I think Christmas was a first step,” Ginny added with a solemn nod before nibbling on the celery stalk that had come with her drink. “And you already spend so much time together.”

“In the end, it's up to you.” Andromeda swayed her tumbler gently before lifting it to her lips to finish off the last drops.

Oh, he knew what they were going to discuss on Monday.

Finally.

* * *

 

Monday was the day before New Year's Eve, and Draco and Hermione had another therapy session with Dr Pendry that day; they used the hour to finally approach the question she had asked when they had decorated the Christmas tree at her place—what if they got back together?

The hour was drawing to an end, and Hermione sat all curled up, leaning against the sofa armrest facing him, biting her lower lip. “And you really think we have a chance? Despite everything?”

“Yes, despite everything.” Draco could hear the insecurity in her voice, even though she sounded hopeful as well. It seemed that he hadn't been the only one who couldn't stop thinking about the kiss and what it could possibly mean for them.

With an ardent smile, he leaned towards her; his smile grew when he saw her cheeks blush ever so slightly in response. “As I mentioned before, you once gave me a chance because you saw the good in me, even forgave me all those horrible things I've done in that war. So, ever since we started talking again, I kept thinking about this, about us. And all I can think is that I do want you back in my life. I want to keep spending time with you–”

“I like spending time with you; it always makes me feel safe and... I don't know...” With a sheepish smile, she buried her face between her knees to cover her momentary embarrassment. “I feel cherished.”

“Let me give you the same chance,” he whispered with an earnest tone to his voice, leaning even closer.

Still hiding her face between her knees, Hermione heaved a sigh in response to his words; he thought he could see her nod, but he wasn't sure as the sheer mass of her curls hid any movement of her head.

“Mr Malfoy?” Dr Pendry said in a quiet voice, rolling her pen between her fingers. With her usual warm but still professional smile, she motioned him to come over to her desk for a moment.

“Yes?”

She glanced over at Hermione who was looking up once more, smiling at them. “Just between us... It's good to hear that you've found it in yourself to forgive her. But forgiveness and trust are two _different_ things.”

“I know.” Keeping half an eye on Hermione, he sat down on the visitor's chair after pulling it closer to the desk to lean against it. “However, I'd be a damn hypocrite if I didn't at least try to give her same chance she once gave me. With a bit of your doing involved as well, if I remember correctly, Dr Pendry.”

“Yes, I remember.” With another smile, she added something to her notes.

He saw Hermione stretch her legs, a sign that she was starting to relax again, even though she was still nibbling her lower lip. As the therapist was still writing down her thoughts, he changed back to his previous spot on the sofa, next to Hermione.

She reached for his hand once he was sitting, even leaned a bit against his shoulder. “You really think we should try?”

“Yes. I think you're worth the risk.”

“Now,” Dr Pendry said, looking up, and not at all surprised to find them both on the sofa. “Given what we discussed today, I have to say that you made quite some progress in working on your relationship. It's really great to see, to be honest. So, I propose we meet again in the second week of January, and then we'll see from there.”

 

Moments later, Draco held the door open for Hermione to step out of the building into the cold air of London, close to Diagon Alley. “Are you okay? You look a bit absent.”

“I'm fine, just...” She sighed, and then put on a soft smile as she stepped out. “I'm just thinking about what you said. It means a lot to me.”

“I saw a nice little coffee place down the street, if you feel up to it,” he said, offering his arm for her to hook in.

She accepted his offer, even went as far as twining their fingers, and then let him guide her through the streets. “You know, I thought about my New Year's resolutions yesterday.”

“You did?” he said with an amused raise of his eyebrow. “I gave them up a long time ago...”

“Yes.” Hermione nudged him, grinning as he mocked a wince. “I mean, isn't the start of a new year also a chance for a new start in my life, to change a few things?”

He nodded, not wanting to interrupt her.

“So, I thought the only two things on my list of resolutions for the new year are to keep working on what _we_ have so far and to apologise to your friends. To all of them.”

Surprised, he stopped in the middle of the pavement and turned towards her. “You think you can do that?”

“I don't know. But I should at least try; I've been hiding long enough from them. They deserve an apology...”

Without thinking about it, he pulled her into an embrace, deeply appreciating what she just said. “It's not going to be easy, you know?”

She wrapped her arms around his waist, her head turned to the side. “I know. I mean, I can't just walk in and say _'sorry for all the trouble'_.”

“We'll find a way.” After a last rub over her back, he let go of her again. “And you know what? Pansy came over to my place over the weekend. I think the engagement made her a bit soft–”

“Oh, she always had a soft core, you know?”

He briefly chuckled, because Hermione was right, even though Pansy barely ever showed it. “What I meant to say is, she is willing to accept your apology if you tell her you're sorry to her face.”

“What?” She gasped. “She said that? Why?”

He smirked, though mostly to cover his blushing cheeks. “She saw us kiss.”

“Oh my God.” She hid her face behind her hands for a moment, shaking her head in disbelief. “So much for keeping it secret!”

“Yes,” he replied, still smirking. “Now, come. Let's discuss it over a nice cup.”

 


	33. Moment Of Truth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was very much looking forward to posting this chapter, because it's such an emotional and important piece of the story—and now I finally can!
> 
> As always, many thanks to my beta for her proofreading and the additional comments, as well as a lot of hugs to my wonderful bunch of ladies who keep me going when I doubt myself.
> 
> ...and last but not least, a big big thank you to everyone reading this story, seeing your comments and kudos always make my day!
> 
>  
> 
> **LOVE YOU ALL! :-****

It was New Year's Eve, and despite various invitations to parties and get-togethers to greet the coming year together, Hermione had decided that she felt the most comfortable doing so at home, watching one of her favourite films on her telly, but not without a bottle of champagne in her fridge.

She loved her friends and their efforts to include her in everything despite her trauma, but simply the thought of spending the night with so many people had exhausted her, especially so close after spending most of Christmas Day at the Burrow.

So, yes, she was looking forward to a quiet evening on the sofa, indulging in the film on the telly—she had brought some of her favourite films over from her old place, mostly happy romances because that was all her mind could think of, especially after Draco's open admission that he wanted her back in his life.

How fast things had changed from the emotionally charged talk right after her rescue to the therapy session the day before! And working things out with Draco had also helped her individual therapy, enabling her to let go of at least some of her guilt and focus instead on her traumatic experiences in the fight pit.

The images of those she had released from the hell they had been in would forever stay in her mind, but she had finally come to accept that—much like during the Second War—she didn't have a choice. She had survived. And they were in a much better place now.

The thought gave her a little peace of mind. It wasn't enough, but it was something to cling on to.

 

A bit into the film, wrapped into her knitted throw and some snacks on the side table, Hermione could hear a knock at her door.

She didn't expect anyone tonight, and only a handful of people could even come to her place, as protected and warded as it was. So, after a second knock made her curious enough, she decided to go and see who was at her door.

“I heard you were staying home by yourself tonight of all nights.”

“Draco!” Hermione exclaimed in happy surprise, noticing his fine suit but more so the bottle of champagne in his hand. “I thought you were going to celebrate with your friends...”

With a smirk, he shrugged. “I was there, that's where I got this nice bottle. But then I heard that you were staying home, and I don't know... suddenly the party wasn't so appealing any longer.”

She couldn't help but feel her stomach flutter at his words. With a blushing smile, she stepped aside to let him enter. “I was watching a film; you can join me if you want.”

“Whatever you want,” he replied with a soft smile as he passed her on his way inside. “I'll just put the bottle in the fridge.”

Hermione watched him walk through to the kitchen as she closed the door and returned to the entrance of the living room. She hadn't expected his appearance at all, so it was even sweeter of him to show up despite his previous plans.

“Tibby heard Master Draco at the door,” the house-elf said as she appeared on the stairs, looking at her with a curious, almost expectant expression.

Hermione nodded, unable to contain another nervous smile. “He is here. In the kitchen.”

“Does Mistress need anything?”

She shook her head. “We'll be fine. But if you could prepare the champagne to have it ready for midnight, that would be wonderful.”

The house-elf nodded eagerly and turned to return upstairs. “Tibby will make sure of it.”

Draco came back from the kitchen, surprised to find Hermione waiting for him as well as Tibby climbing the last steps to the first floor. “She wanted to check on us?”

“Yeah. She's rather protective in her own way, and I'm kind of glad for that.”

He was briefly distracted by the muted telly where her film was still flickering on the screen. “I think I remember that one,” he said with a soft smile, reaching for her hands. “Wasn't it one of those films you said I absolutely  _had_ to watch?”

She nodded, her gaze fixed on his soft touch and the circles he was drawing on the back of her hand. “So, join me?”

“Of course.”

 

Minutes later, they had settled on the sofa, in Hermione's favourite position—her half on top of him while he had made himself comfortable in a half-lying position, his arms holding her in place.

She could hear his heartbeat in this position, that wonderfully soothing sound. He had taken off his suit jacket as well as the waistcoat, so she was absent-mindedly playing with the buttons of his shirt.

She had missed this so much. Just lying in each other's arms, without really speaking, just enjoying the other's presence; she had always felt safe and protected in those  moments, as if his arms provided a bubble that kept all the bad things outside. More often than not, she even had even fallen asleep in this position.

“Were you at the company today?” she finally asked in a quiet voice, breaking the comfortable silence.

“Yeah, just making sure that everything was finished that needed to be finished. Minor things.”

She smiled softly, humming as he let his hands brush over her head. “I remember the stress you always had in the last week of the year to get everything done in the old year. Didn't you have a minor argument with Daphne one year about it? Because she was super-stressed, unable to find a transaction or something?”

He chuckled. “The argument back then wasn't exactly minor, but then she is responsible for drawing up the balance sheets. A lot depends on those sheets, you know?”

“Yeah, I remember.” She turned her head to look at him, only to blush when she saw that he wasn't following the film but rather fixed on her. “And I remember you taking those business classes, many evenings of you leaning over books. I had to drag you to bed more than once...”

“About as much as I had to pick you up in your office because you forgot the time.”

She couldn't help but smirk as she remembered those evenings when he showed up in her Ministry office. Encouraged by his hands massaging her back now, she carefully shifted upwards. “You didn't mind the chance of an otherwise empty level...”

He gently pulled her on top, so that she was only inches away from his face; the adoration she could see in it made her heart jump a beat. It reminded her of how he had looked at her at the Burrow as he tilted her head up moments before the kiss under the mistletoe.

This was him having made a decision. This was him considering her worth the risk, just as he had said the day before.

Hermione saw him lick his lips, and she could feel a flutter in her stomach, even spreading through her whole body from there. She was so close! “I... Can I...? I-I mean, can I–?”

He didn't let her finish and simply claimed her lips in an ardent kiss, his hands pulling her closer with his fingers digging into the curls on the side. There was no hesitation this time, no uncertainty any longer, and definitely no holding back on his part. He was fully invested in rediscovering every corner of her mouth anew.

She responded with the same ardour, with  goose bumps all over her body and her heart racing all over the place. Each touch of their swirling tongues had shivers running through her body. It felt oddly familiar and yet so completely new.

Shifting her position slightly to have her hands free to run them through his hair, she intensified their kiss, encouraged by his low moan vibrating in his chest.

He wanted her.

Hermione eventually had to pull away as she started to feel high and slightly out of breath from sheer overwhelming excitement. Her mind was buzzing with thoughts and questions, yet she was unable to say a single word, only smile happily.

Merlin, his kisses made her forget her doubts, at least for the moment, and she would be a damned fool not to want him back in her life too.

“My lioness,” he whispered, licking his reddened lips as he ran his hands over her shoulders and down her sides.

“I love hearing you say that,” she replied, her smile broadening as she leaned down for a peck on his lips. “Makes me feel safe, my dragon.”

“I missed saying it.”

She enjoyed the feel of his hands running up and down her back and sides, soft caresses that were subtly teasing her as they still seemed to know her favourite spots—spots that hadn't been touched this way for a long time because she hadn't felt safe enough with anyone else.

With Draco, she felt safe enough.

He let his hand slip under her jumper, reluctantly as if to test her response to it. “I know I said it before, but I really missed just spending time with you, like this.”

She sighed, only to smile when he let his hand sneak further underneath her jumper. “I missed it too. And I'll probably feel like an idiot forever for letting it go.”

“It's okay.” With his other hand, he pulled her back down for another kiss, more fervent and endearing than before.

Hermione was easily lost in the feel of his lips once more and responded in kind, aching for more.

His sneaky hand on her back wandered all the way down to the seams of her slacks, pulling the shirt up that was still covering her; it only took seconds to free the skin, and she couldn't hold back a moan at the first touch of his fingers on her  bared back.

She kissed him harder in response, more possessive and wanting to claim everything he had to offer. Her body hummed with a slowly growing desire, and she simply relished in his hand wandering up and down on her back, leaving a prickling trail in its wake. It woke something she had buried deep over all those years—a want, an almost forgotten need. It was small still, yet it was growing, throbbing louder and louder in her veins, encouraging her to deepen their kiss, urging her to no longer hold back.

But...

But the more she gave into desire and his enticing touches, the more eager her creature  became until it demanded control—the Harpy in her wanted to take over, wanted to take  _him_ . Her skin began to prickle accordingly.

“No, please not now!” she cried out as she pulled off and sat up, breathing deeply as she struggled to stay in control of herself—her muscles were tensing from the struggle to stay human, yet she knew she was failing already because her vision was blurring as a first sign of the threatened transformation.

“Everything okay?”

Startled by his worried question, Hermione shook her head; the disruption was enough to regain momentary control over her body, so she climbed off to leave the room in a hurry. It had been foolish to get lost in the moment, foolish to even believe that she could keep control over it.

Utterly foolish.

 

Once in her bedroom, she let out a frustrated scream. She had been too close! Too goddamn close! It was still screeching in her head, and she could feel its anger rising in her, making it almost impossible to keep the thin control—her hands and feet, no her whole body was tingling so hard, it was unbearable.

“Hermione? Are you okay?” Draco, still all tousled and dishevelled from moments before, appeared in the door to her room without entering, even though it was clear he just wanted to help her calm down.

“No!” she retorted and stepped back from the door. “I'm a _monster_! And I almost lost control downstairs... I'm a fool to believe we have any chance like that!”

“We can... We can find a way to deal with it,” he replied with a collected tone, offering his hand for comfort. “Look, I know _what_ you are, and I stand with what I told you yesterday... I accept it as part of  you, because you _are_ worth the risk.”

His words only aggravated her more, so she wanted to know the truth—she wanted to know whether they could really find a way to deal with it!

That was why she pulled off her jumper and her shirt in one swift motion before she took a deep breath as she relinquished the control over her body to the Harpy in her. She found the creature's delight to be let out to the surface disgusting, and not for the first time, she hated it for destroying what she might still have if it weren't part of her.

With only her bra covering her upper body now, she watched him closely as she transformed into the form of the Harpy—her arms growing into wings, fingers and toes changing into talons, her whole body covered in feathers. Now that she was standing in front of him in all her hideous glory, she needed to see his reaction, almost craved his rejection to confirm her fears.

Draco took his time to take in her form, following every single feather on her arms, lingering on the talons that were now her fingers, yet he didn't give away what was going through his mind, his face  blank for those endless seconds.

“Can you accept _this_? Even _love_ it?”

“Yes.”

His answer wasn't what she had expected, and it shocked her. No disgust, no contempt, nothing. All she could see now in his face was the adoration she had seen earlier, love even.

And honesty.

It was hard to  bear, and even harder to accept herself. “H-How? Why?”

He finally stepped inside as she faltered in her step, reaching for her transformed hand to stabilise her. “Because you're my lioness, and you're the only one I ever wanted.”

“No.” She shook her head, unable to believe his words because she had believed her fears for so long, too long. “No... I'm a monster.”

“You're not...” Careful to avoid her talons, he twined his fingers with hers. “It's okay. I'm not leaving.”

“Not leaving,” she repeated in a whisper, her mind a blur as it tried to comprehend what just happened. She no longer knew what the truth was, or simply what to believe, so she clung to the only thing that felt real right now—his hand twined with hers.

“Not leaving.”

His voice was only a whisper, yet with each repetition, she felt a soothing feeling wash over her, calming her soul. Even the creature no longer screeched in her head, silent for once.

Only then her knees sacked away, and all she could do to avoid falling to the ground was clinging to his frame. She gasped as he grabbed her shoulders to keep her up. No one had ever touched her in this  form outside the pits, and he was the first person she had allowed to see on her terms.

She didn't protest as he carried her over to the bed to let her sit down; her mind still reeling and overwhelmed, she immediately grabbed his again as soon as he offered it, careful not to scratch him.

“Are you okay?”

She shook her head. “I was so sure you'd say  _no_ . So sure. I wanted to believe what you said in the sessions with Dr Pendry, that you didn't care, that there was a chance. I really wanted to believe it  because you...  because you–”

“My brave lioness,” he whispered affirmingly, kneeling down in front of her. “My beautiful, brave lioness.”

“I'm hideous, Draco. There's nothing beautiful about being a Harpy.”

He shook his head, vigorously so. “I refuse to believe that. You'll always be my beautiful and brave lioness. You know why? You were the one who had the courage to see the good in me when no one else did. You were the one who stood beside me when I needed it. And you're the one who still has my heart.”

Hearing this, Hermione could no longer hold back her tears. It was too much.

Her whole body shook as she sobbed violently. She had really needed him to see it, had really needed to see his  _reaction_ , not just hear his words, to realise that her fears were unfounded—he wouldn't just leave her for what she had become.

Was that relief?

“Shh... I'm here,” he said in a soothing tone, even placing the gentlest of kisses on her temple; he had shifted his position to next to her on the bed to hold her in a comforting embrace. “Change back if it makes you feel better.”

And Hermione did change back into her human form, only to then hold on tight to his body as he slowly leaned back to lie on her bed.

 

Hermione didn't know how long they simply lay there, with her in the safety of his arms. She was no longer crying, her previous overwhelming confusion driven away by his sheer presence, by the  way his magic responded to hers—calm and quiet against her tempest.

Hadn't it once been the other way? Hadn't there once been days when she calmed the tempest in his soul, his heart?

It seemed a lifetime ago.

“Better?”

She nodded hesitantly, sighing as he placed a soft kiss on her forehead. “I'm sorry for the scene.”

“Shh... It's okay.”

She didn't know what to respond to that, so she just nestled closer to his shoulder, letting her mind drift for a few seconds as he kept drawing patterns on her back.

“You know, I wanted to show you.”

“You did?”

She nodded once more. “I talked about it with Dr Pendry in my last session... Because, of all people, you deserved to know. I wanted to show you when I was ready, not like this.”

“This is the first time you showed it to someone?”

“ _Willingly_ , yes. Not even Harry knows what I look like as a creature.”

His fingers on her back were now wandering up her shoulders, teasing her gently in the neck with ghosting brushes, even digging into the onset of her curls. “My lioness...”

“My dragon.” With another sigh, Hermione loosened her hold on his waist and moved her arm to his front, tracing the row of buttons absent-mindedly. “What...? I mean, what if it shows while... you know?”

He reached with his free hand for hers. Gently, he opened it, only to spread her fingers and caress each of them with his thumb. “You scratched me before. I think I still have a few scars on my back somewhere–”

“I won't just _scratch_ you. I'm scared that the Harpy wants to see blood if it's out. You might end up in hospital, or worse, I might stab you, maybe even hit your heart. What then?”

“We'll find a way, Hermione. If we want to make it work again between us, then we'll find a way to deal with it.”

With a small flutter in her stomach, she studied him—those pale grey eyes that only held unwavering adoration for her, those cheeks that were ever so slightly pink, and those soft lips with their warm smile tugging in their corner, subtly teasing her.

As if testing the waters, she leaned forward until she could feel his breath on her face, noticing how it became a little more jagged with barely contained anticipation, only to have it change to a small gasp as she captured his teasingly smiling lips in a soft kiss.

“You want to... continue?” Draco whispered between kisses, pulling her closer.

“Just promise to stop when I say so,” she replied in the same whisper, her heart racing with renewed excitement. In addition, she could feel a wave of his magic washing over her, reconnecting with hers; the sheer intensity of it, and the love underneath, made her feel weightless, and her whole body hummed.

But the most astonishing experience in that single moment was her creature still being eager for more, yet no longer demanding control over her body, no longer wanting to take him, but rather accepting him as her  _mate_ , to use the Veela term in lack of a better word.

“I promise.” With that, he deepened the kiss, with a hunger that surprised her at first, only to match it seconds later.

His hands wandered all over her body, and it was so wonderful! It had been an eternity since anyone had touched her like  this, since  _he_ had touched her like this! In response, she worked on the buttons of his shirt, eager to touch the skin underneath.

Seconds later, she had managed to open the shirt and pulled it over his shoulder as good as she could, teasing him with kisses along his jaw and neck. The sounds he made in response to her caresses delighted her, adding to her growing excitement. All those little moans, how had she missed them!

However, he stopped her as she started to push him on his back because she wanted more of his skin, more of that enticing scent. “Just relax and enjoy tonight.”

“What do–?” She gasped as he managed to unhook her bra but understood then, letting him pull it off her so that she was now naked before him.

As she settled on her back, she watched him take his shirt off completely, together with the undershirt. She felt nervous at that moment, and she just hoped that her creature would keep as quiet as it did right now. But above all, she hadn't been intimate with anyone in years—in fact, her last time even had been with Draco.

“What's that?” she asked as he climbed on the bed to join her; she pointed at his chest where she saw a round and reddened spot.

With a short melancholic smile, he leaned over her to leave a trail of kisses down her jaw and neck. “A memory from the search. A price I paid to find you.”

Hermione had no chance to  ask any further, as he had found his way to her cleavage. He was worshipping every inch of her skin with hot kisses and nibbles while his hands were all over the rest of her upper body, mapping all her curves and scars anew.

“You're so beautiful,” he murmured against her skin like a mantra.

She felt her skin flush at those words, not used to hear that kind of endearments anymore. Each touch of his lips against her skin sent a small enticing jolt through her body, and she could no longer hold back her moans.

“Yes!” she hissed as he finally focused on her breast, sucking and nibbling the perky nipple until it was sensitive to a simple blow of air. With the same eagerness, he paid the same attention to the other breast, until she arched beneath him, her hands buried in his hair.

“Lower?”

Pulled out from her first high  by his simple question, she took a moment to understand what he wanted. She looked down to find him waiting for an answer, to make sure she was okay with it. It was endearing, and she could see that he would love to continue with his rediscovery of her body.

Still brushing through his tousled mess of hair, because she couldn't get enough of that eager look, she felt her creature hum inside her, urging her to nod—something she had never experienced before, and which she couldn't explain.

Reassured, and just as keen for more, she nodded, only to then chuckle at the devious smile that immediately brightened his face.

Continuing his trail of hot kisses over her body, Draco slowly wandered down her belly, paying attention to her navel, repeatedly teasing her along her low-sitting slacks, until she couldn't bear it any longer and lifted her hips so that he could pull the slacks down.

“Underwear too?” he asked, hooking his finger into the slack seams, and looking up to her with a daringly raised eyebrow. He bit his lip as he took a deep breath and couldn't hold back from placing another hot kiss on top of her knickers, the slacks pulled down a bit.

The moan Hermione could hear escape him made her feel a surge of arousal in her abdomen—it was such a hungry, desperate sound, betraying his outer patience. She nodded to his utter delight, and with shaking hands, she helped him pull her last pieces of clothing off.

Once the clothes landed on the floor, he let his hungry gaze wander over her naked body all splayed in front of him, his hands running up and down her thighs, lingering on the scar on her right thigh. His thumb followed its outline, memorising every little detail, like with every other scar on her lower body and legs. “You have no idea how much I missed that sight...”

His murmured words felt like praise, and it made her blush all over. Encouraged thus, she leaned on one of her elbows, only to reach for his trousers with her other hand; she delighted in the guttural moan she could elicit from him as she palmed his groin, only to repeat it with more pressure.

With another deep moan, Draco pushed her back down and kissed her hungrily, taking possession of her mouth while one of his hands wandered down her sides.

She arched when his fingers found her clit, expertly circling it until she was moaning into the kiss, desperate for him to go further, deeper. With her legs, she pushed his hips down towards her own, not caring about his trousers any longer.

“What do you want?” he asked, breathing hotly into her ear, making her shudder from the sheer huskiness of his voice. “I remember you liked what I could do with my tongue–”

“Oh Gods, yes!” Hermione exclaimed at his words, trying to meet his hand that was still stroking her labia, with special attention to her clit. It was so good!

“Or,” he continued in the same husky voice as he pushed a finger in, “how about _this_?”

Hermione simply gasped at the feel of his finger inside her. Damn, he still knew  _that_ spot inside her that made her see stars whenever he brushed over it! She arched and bucked when he continued to circle her clit with his thumb, momentarily lost to anything but what he was doing to her. “Not-Not enough...”

He covered her throat with more hot kisses, sure to leave light bruises in a few spots, as he kept fingering her. Nibbling her earlobe, he added a second finger, even increased the pace. “You want more?”

“You,” she muttered, trying to keep her eyes open as another wave of pleasure shot through her body. He hadn't done much yet, and she was already so damn close to the edge! It felt exquisite after so many years of self-imposed celibacy just to feel him, to have him touch her like this, to feel wanted! “I-I want you...”

He shifted his position to look at her, even stopped his strokes to her dismay. “You're sure about that?”

With a soft smile, she framed his face and kissed him—gently first, but quickly turning into something more heated, demanding. And to her delight, he continued to push his fingers inside her, once more sending wave after wave of pleasure through her body with each move. It was damn good, but she wanted something different.

“I take that as a yes,” he husked as he finally broke off, licking his lips, only to smile warmly and then pull his fingers out when she nodded. “Help me.”

With shaking but eager hands, Hermione helped him get his trousers and briefs off. She couldn't resist reaching for his hardened cock and take it in her fist as he was standing in front of the bed, about to climb back in. It was exactly as she remembered it—gorgeously thick, and already leaking some precome that she used as lube for her teasing strokes.

“Hermione,” he let out in a content sigh as she even leaned forward to let her tongue run over it, teasing the underside of its head; momentarily lost to her touches, he dug his fingers into her hair to keep her in place.

Seeing his reaction to her moves, she went further and took his cock into her mouth, only to tease him with a few strokes of her tongue, swallowing the salty essence. After a few more teasing strokes, she pulled off with a wet  _plop_ .

“You tease...”

“I had to make sure,” she replied and leaned back on the bed, smiling as he followed her eagerly, placing her legs around his hips. She purred as his hands ran over her thighs and sides, only increasing her anticipation of what was about to happen.

With one of his wicked smiles, he positioned himself over her, biting his lip as the head of his cock brushed her labia. “Last chance...”

“Draco!” Growing impatient with him, Hermione used her legs and feet to push him closer, so that his cock was now at the entrance of her vagina, its head delving between her slick labia. She had to gasp at the sensation of it, and she closed her eyes for a moment, enjoying the pleasurable jolts running through her body.

She held her breath as he finally entered her—slow as hell, savouring every inch of it. Once he was fully buried in her, she opened her eyes again, only to meet his eyes that were dark with desire, matching hers. In a sudden urge, she reached for him to pull him down for a heated kiss; she moaned into the kiss as he started moving.

Gods, she needed to feel every inch of his skin on her, needed to feel him pound into her as hard and deep as he could—nothing else would do at this moment! It wasn't just her need, her hunger, but the creature seemed to crave it too.

“Harder,” she let out in a deep moan, her hands running over his lower back, leaving scratches everywhere, even as low as his arse.

“Yes,” he hissed before shifting his position to thrust at a slightly different angle, increasing the pace. He left hot kisses everywhere he could reach her skin, even sucked hard enough in some spots to leave bruises.

Her senses overwhelmed with sensations, Hermione felt her orgasm build up in her lower abdomen, threatening to take over any moment. She just needed a little extra stimulation, as exquisite the feel of him moving in and out of her was.

“C-Clit.”

“Hm-hm.” Not stopping his trail of hot kisses, he shifted his weight to free one hand to reach between them.

“Oh my Gods!” Hermione let out as he found the overly sensitive knob, making her see stars. “Fuck yes!”

With him attending so expertly to her clit while continuing to pound into her almost mercilessly now, it didn't take Hermione long to reach her orgasm. For the first time in years, she  willingly let go of any control she still had, relishing in the pleasure rolling through her and overloading her senses.

It was bliss.

As she regained control moments later, floating in the afterglow of her orgasm slowly ebbing away, she felt Draco reach his own orgasm, spilling into her with a few deep thrusts, and grunting into her neck. She had forgotten what it felt like, being connected like this.

It felt good right now.

She gently brushed over his back, pushing back the thoughts about any Contraception Spells until later; instead, she tried to soothe the scratches she had caused earlier, as he propped himself up to look at her with a content smile, placing soft kisses on her jaw and cheeks.

“My lioness,” he whispered between his kisses.

“My dragon,” she replied automatically, humming at his caresses. “I don't ever want to miss this again... I care too much about us to want anything else.”

“Same here...”

Even though she already knew it, those words made Hermione choke briefly, and she could only hold him tighter in her arms. They still had enough to work through, but it made her feel like they could take on everything once more—as long as they were together.

Seconds later, they both had to laugh as they heard the bells ring and fireworks go off in the vicinity of her place.

“Happy New Year, my dragon. May the new year bring us both the peace we need.”

“Happy New Year, my beautiful lioness,” he replied, placing a tender kiss on her lips. “May the new year be better than the last.”

A timid knock was heard from the door. “Mistress? Tibby has prepared the champagne...”

Hermione chuckled as she caught a glimpse of her slightly embarrassed but happily grinning house-elf—she had completely forgotten about the champagne. With one last peck on Draco's lips, she let go of him. “We'll be right with you... We only need to freshen up a bit.”

What had started as a solitary evening had turned out to be her best New Year's Eve in ages, reunited with the man she still loved more than anyone else and who still loved her too. The way she was.

The new year could only be better than the last.

 

**Author's Note:**

> You can also find me on tumblr => [naarna.tumblr.com](http://naarna.tumblr.com)! <3


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